The Others: Strangers in an Unforgiving Land
by jpdt19
Summary: A Stargate Atlantis & Farscape Crossover. Another take on where the Atlantis copies end up after "A Mortal Coil" Spoilers for Season 3 of Stargate Atlantis. The copies end up somewhere they did not expect!
1. Chapter 1a

Greetings all. This is my second attempt at fanfiction, and is a story idea that i've been thinking about for several months now. The story begins with a slight AU version of the events of Stargate Atlantis's Season 4 Episode "This Mortal Coil." I always thought it was a wonderful opportunity for a "what if" situation.

Those of you who have been keeping up with the show will recognise a number of the lines. While i have attempted to avoid paroting too much, it was necessary to use some of the show's lines. There will be a few more in the next few chapters but after the crossover starts then the dialogue will be almost completely original.

I hope you enjoy, and i would very much appreciate feedback and reviews!

**All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I do not own the rights or characters to Stargate Atlantis or to Farscape.**

**The Others**

**Chapter 1a: Orbit of Asuras**

Many thousands of km above the surface of the planet, the blackness of space was shattered, as a hyperspace window opened in a bright flash of tormented and swirling light. From within the center of the dazzling vortex a dark shape emerged at high speed, its silhouette blurry at first from the high velocity the ship was traveling at following its exit from Hyperspace.

The shape seemed to shorten as the ship decelerated rapidly to sub light speeds, the blurred outline swiftly becoming recognizable as that of an Aurora Class Battlecruiser. As the ship maneuvered swiftly into orbit a small craft, invisible to both sensors and the naked eye, detached itself from a point on the battle cruiser's upper hull. Banking sharply away from the much larger vessel, the jumper slipped stealthily into a geostationary orbit, far above one of the planets northern continents.

Inside the Puddle jumper, the woman who thought of herself as Elizabeth Weir leaned forward in her seat, to peer through the large forward viewport at the planet below. "Do you think they detected us?" she enquired, the concern clearly audible in her voice.

"If they did we'll know about it any moment now," replied the man in the pilot seat to her left. Since they had detached from the cruisers hull the pilot's eyes had rarely left the HUD, alert for any signs of trouble. To his relief, the holographic representation of the battlecruiser on his display had not altered course, after entering the planet's orbit it had instead begun to descend slowly into the upper atmosphere. Nevertheless he remained alert, conscious of how exposed they were, and all too aware of their lack of any means of escape should they be discovered.

Only when he was 'reasonably' certain that their arrival had gone unnoticed, did he allow himself to relax ever so slightly in his chair. Brushing a stray lock of dark hair out of his eyes, he called over his shoulder at the figure hunched over a laptop in the seat behind him, still not taking his eyes of the HUD.

"McKay, talk to me!"

"You were right, it's the Replicator home world, and it looks like they've been busy"

"What do you mean?"

"Well you know those shipyards we destroyed", said Rodney McKay, leaning forward and pressing his hand on the main console, so that the HUD changed to a view of the planet's surface, "that's one of them!"

For a moment there was total silence, as all eyes in the jumper gazed at the image being displayed. Finally Teyla broke the silence, "they rebuilt it", she exclaimed lamely.  
Rodney simply gazed at her. With some difficulty he bit back a sarcastic comment, realizing it would not probably be well received under the circumstances. Running his fingers swiftly over the crystals on the console he altered the focus of the sensors, expanding the range to cover the entire area north of the replicator city.

"Let's see, I count maybe 50 slipways, each containing what looks like an aurora class under construction. A lot of them look finished, I'm detecting active reactor signatures."

"So they're building another fleet?"

"And then some!" McKay felt obliged to add.

"You heard what that Kellar look-alike said John, Oberoth and the others are targeting the wraith's food supply. They're building these ships to wipe out defenseless human worlds, because of what we did.

"And after that they'll go after earth, they hate us, they see us as a threat." Said Mckay.

Sheppard grimaced, all too aware of the Atlantis expedition's guilt. First he had reawakened the wraith, and now they had both made an enemy of the Asurans, and set the replicators loose on the humans of the Pegasus galaxy.

Angrily he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, right now was definitely not the time for a guilt trip. Anyway, it wasn't even him or the others who had actually done those things, but them, the original Sheppard, McKay Teyla and Weir.

Elizabeth caught his eye, she gave a sad smile, she had probably been thinking about exactly the same thing. She looked for a moment like she was about to say something, but in the end she just turned her head, and gazed once more upon the planet below, clearly deep in thought.

"Alright I'm going to take us down for a closer look. First things first, we need to find a way out of here." he said.

He pushed the Jumper into a smooth dive, heading for the shipyards to the east of the Replicator city.

"I take it you have an idea John?" said Weir.

Sheppard remained silent for a minute or two, as the jumper sank lower and lower into the planet's atmosphere. Then he gave a slight grin.

"I was thinking, since they've got so many of them now, maybe we can find a ship the replicators won't miss."

**Aprox 5 seconds later**

"EXCUSE ME?"

"You heard me McKay."

"That has got to be one of the stupidest things you have ever said".

"Calm down Rodney"

"No Elizabeth I will not calm down, I have no intention of being killed simply because ... well because John Sheppard has a desire to practice Grand Theft Spaceship."

Sheppard banked the Jumper smoothly, heading for the roof of a tall building on the edge of the city, one that overlooked the shipyards. He'd realized it was a rather risky idea as soon as he'd thought of it, but he really didn't think they had any other choice. His first attempt to try persuade Rodney of this though was naturally, unsuccessful.

"Rodney, if we don't get hold of a hyperspace capable ship, how are we going to contact Atlantis?, I doubt enormously that the replicators will just let us walk through their Stargate." Sheppard was accustomed to Rodney's blatant pessimism, but this continued negativity was starting to get to him. He guessed it had something to do with the whole "We're not who we thought we were" conversation they had had earlier.

"Yes, and they won't be just a little bit suspicious when one of their spaceships just happens to go walkabout, they'll probably destroy us before we even reach orbit".

"Do you have a better idea McKay?" There was a definite edge to Sheppard's voice now.

"Could we not wait for another ship to leave and then 'hitch a ride' like we did before?" Teyla's voice broke in on their conversation, calm and collected as always. The small Athosian woman had remained silent for much of the time since they had left hyperspace, but she spoke up now, clearly hoping to pour oil on the troubled waters.

McKay shook his head, for a moment he sounded quite calm.

"I've already considered that, the probability that the ship would arrive at a planet with a gate are mathematically slim. Plus, considering that the Replicators are fighting the Wraith at the moment, we're more likely to arrive in the middle of a battle. Something I have no great desire to experience by the way."

He started to speak again, but this time Sheppard swiftly cut him short!

"So Rodney, our only option if we want to get out of here alive therefore, is to maybe find a ship they won't miss! So why don't you stop complaining about our only even remotely possible plan, and find us a damn ship!" Sheppard practically shouted the last word, glaring at McKay, all the anger, fear and doubt of the last few hours had worn away at his usually calm demeanor.

McKay fell silent, he looked hurt for a moment and then gazed down at his tablet.

Sheppard had to concentrate on landing, but while he did so he was silently cursing himself. He shouldn't have lost his temper! McKay was clearly nervous, they were all on edge. Shouting wouldn't solve anything.

"Ronon", he called, "check what stores and weapons we've got back there will you."

As the cloaked jumper sank slowly towards the roof the only sound to be heard inside came only the noise of the Flightpods retracting into the hull. Then with a soft thud and slight clang of metal the Jumper touched down.

Inside the jumper Elizabeth Weir simply gazed out the forward viewport at the huge shipyards that stretched almost into the horizon. Ronon, assisted by Teyla had gone into the rear while Sheppard swiveled in his seat, turning to face the man behind him.

McKay was gazing at the screen of his tablet, his face blank.

Sheppard sighed slightly, assuming that his team member was deliberately ignoring him. He began anyway.

"Look Rodney, I'm sorry I lost my temper and shouted at you. It wasn't fair, and to be honest it's a rather crazy plan in the first place, but it's the only one i can think of"

Sheppard was going to carry on when McKay spoke, two curt short words.

"Oh Crap."

Taken aback, Sheppard now looked closely and realized that McKay had clearly not heard a single word of what he had just said. The Scientists face was no longer a blank mask, Sheppard distinctly saw what looked momentarily like awe and then sudden fear flash across the other mans features. He was still gazing fixedly at the screen of his tablet, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open.

Sheppard hurriedly got out of his seat, and stepped forwards so he could see what McKay was looking at.

Looking over Rodney's shoulder, he could not at first make sense of the characters flashing across the tablet's small screen. His grasp of ancient was rough, but practical. John couldn't exactly write a song in ancient but he could usually understand what consoles and displays were trying to tell him.

This time it was more than enough. When he eventually realized what McKay was so worked up about, his reaction was much the same.

While John Sheppard didn't exactly swear very loudly, in the quiet of the jumper the words rang out loud and clear.

"Crap!" "Ok that could be a problem."


	2. Chapter 1b

**Thanks to everyone who took the time to review this story, much appreciated. Do please keep on reviewing its great. ****Hope you enjoy this chapter too.**

**The Others Chapter 1b**

**Asuras: On the Roof of a Skyscraper.**

"Rodney? John?"

Weir gazed at Sheppard and McKay both still staring at the screen on Rodney's tablet.

Sheppard snapped out of it first

Casting her a look of distinct concern, he leant over and spoke a few words that Weir didn't catch in McKay's ear.

McKay gave a slight nod, and returned to his tablet.

Sheppard walked forward to join Weir, giving her a grin of reassurance that was so obviously contrived she didn't buy it for a moment. He seemed to realize she could see right through him, as she always could, and so sat quickly down in the pilots chair across from her.

She watched him, as he sat there, resting his head in his hands. For a few short moments, all the stress and worry of the last few hours could be seen on his face and in his slumped posture.

Then just as suddenly, the look was gone. Sheppard sat up, alert and poised. On his face Weir could now see the mask of the soldier, the part of his character Sheppard seemed compelled to hide most of the time behind a façade of humor and dry wit.

His eyes scanned the horizon carefully, before he relaxed and sat back slightly in his chair. As the minutes ticked by he sat, fiddling absently with his watch strap, from time to time bringing up the HUD to check if anything had changed.

At last, after at least 10 minutes had gone by McKay gave a cry of triumph. Followed by "Sheppard, I'm hacked in, I've got full schematics of the facility and the status of the ships in the docking bays."

"Took you long enough?"

"Well they had some major security around the shipyard's mainframe, took me a while to get in without letting them know I was there. Plus I had to hide my data-link, you know to stop them finding and tracking the source of the hack. Luckily the facility seems to be fully automated, so no-one was reviewing the feeds."

"Nice one, good job McKay"

"Thanks, well maybe I could have been a little faster but I really …

"Never mind that now, can you put a map of the facility up on the screen."

"Oh right, yes sure of course."

Sheppard nodded as the image steadily formed on the HUD, growing in detail until it depicted a vast facility the size of Atlantis, in the shape of a wide circle.

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"You found us a ship yet McKay?"

Ronon strode into the front of the Jumper, followed by Teyla. The Satedan now wore his long coat, though Sheppard personally had no clue as to how and when he'd had the time to grab it before they left the fake Atlantis. He carried a P90 on a strap, his gun in its usual holster, a number of grenades and surprisingly, a Missile launcher over his shoulder.

Sheppard's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the weapon. "Is that real?"

Ronon shrugged, "seems to be, I checked it" He gestured towards the back of the jumper; there's a whole lot of guns back there, the odd missile and explosive too." He grinned slightly "they really put in a lot of effort didn't they" he patted the tube "I've wonder what one of these would do to a replicator".

Sheppard grinned back, "it might slow some of them down enough to let us steal one of their ships. McKay's found something I like the look of."

He gestured to the screen.

Ronon stared at it, stared back at Sheppard, stared at the screen again, then turned and raised an eyebrow at McKay.

"You've found us a ship McKay?"

Rodney, who had been staring at the arsenal draped over Ronon with a slightly open mouth, shut it hurriedly.

"You could say that, I found several actually."

His fingers began to dance over the tablet in his hands, making parts of the plan on the HUD flash.

"I was using the jumper's sensors to scan for ships with active reactors, when I noticed a strong energy reading coming from beneath the ground, or so I thought."

On the screen 12 rectangular shapes began to glow with a deep blue light. Of the two shipyard complexes built by the replicators, the HUD was displaying a plan of the larger. It was a massive site, similar in scale and shape to a city ship such as Atlantis.

The major difference was that where Atlantis was divided into 6 piers around a central hub, the shipyard spanned a complete circle around a central tower. Most of the complex was covered by three concentric rings of slipways, radiating outwards from the center. All in all there were perhaps 30 ships under construction in this one facility alone.

Smaller towers and buildings dotted the complex between the 3 rings of slipways. Clearly also visible were 5 large rectangular structures located equidistant around the perimeter, beyond the outer ring of slipways. They were squat bunker like structures, each with the easily recognizable circle of a drone launcher on their upper surface. Clearly this time the Asurans weren't leaving anything to chance and had built their shipyards to withstand and defend against any orbital bombardment.

Surprisingly though, the dark blue rectangles that had lit up on the plan did not correspond with any of the slipways on the 3 main rings. They were instead grouped in a tighter circle around the shipyard's central spire, within the innermost ring of shipyards. They were also significantly larger than any of the slipways containing an Aurora.

Sheppard gazed at them for a moment, noting the distinct line down the center of each rectangle. Then it clicked. "Hangers, like the one on Volcano world where we found the Orion?

"Bingo! We didn't notice them at first, because it looks like they were deliberately designed to not be visible from orbit."

"So they're hiding something" commented Ronon.

Only McKay's preoccupation with his tablet prevented him from retorting with an especially sarcastic reply this time. While he may have remained silent, Sheppard distinctly saw his mouth twitch.

As the scientist typed, he carried on his explanation. "As I said, I a detected power signature from the area beneath the hanger doors, but the Jumper's scanners couldn't penetrate the surface. They must have some sort of scrambling field in place."

"Anyway, it took me a little while but I managed to hack into the shipyard mainframe. After breaking few a number of quite nasty firewalls undetected, I finally found _this_ in the mainframe." McKay tapped a key on his tablet.

The plan of the shipyard on the HUD vanished. It was replaced by another, a slowly rotating schematic of a _very _large and _very_ intimidating looking ship. It appeared to be at least half as large again as an Aurora class and was distinctly bulkier around the center. The center hull was also distinctly wider and thicker from above, suggesting the vessel mounted a far more powerful set of hyperdrive engines.

As the image of the ship slowly rotated Sheppard saw that while the ship possessed a set of "fins" housing the sublight drives similar to those of an Aurora, the "fins" themselves were both larger and more streamlined. As the image rotated to show the ship from end on, he saw that instead of the Aurora's four the ship now had 8 sublight engine ports, 4 in each fin.

While the ship was considerably larger and bulkier than an Aurora, it also seemed more streamlined and aerodynamic. From the unusually smooth appearance of the hull plating, Sheppard guessed that much of the ship's hull was enclosed inside an armored casing, thus hiding much of the clutter visible on the Aurora's exterior. The plating of the upper hull ran almost level from fore to aft, with only a slight rise in the middle of the ship to visibly accommodate the bridge and obvious drone launching systems.

In fact the only thing that spoilt the ships smooth lines was the rear tower housing the main drive systems, the slight bulge of the ships snub protruding bow and the mountings for numerous weapons emplacements that dotted the ships flanks.

That and the twin mountings of what could only be some form of large, directed energy weapon, two on either side of the ship's hull.

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McKay gave a slight cough, drawing everyone attention instantly back to him, though eyes still wandered to the image of the ship of the screen.

"This ship is one of twelve currently under-construction in the hangers we detected. While it's obviously bigger, larger and meaner than anything we've seen before, there's far more to it that just that. Shortly after we first encountered the Aurora, Zelenka and I were digging around in the Atlantis database, looking for information on Ancient ship design. We were looking mainly for more data on the Aurora class, as well as any useful technology or techniques that could be applied to the next batch of 304's.

While we didn't find much that could be applied at our current level of shipbuilding, we did find the design specs for this. Simply put, it's an Alterran dreadnaught. This thing makes the Aurora look weak in comparison. Unlike the Aurora, it's purely a dedicated warship. It has faster sublight, much stronger shields, more powerful energy-weapons, much more automation and auto-repair facilities. Oh and a hyperdrive equal to if not faster than the one the Asgard provided for the Daedalus.

Sheppard gave a low whistle of appreciation. "Sweet" he muttered.

McKay gave him a nod of agreement. "The Ancients built this thing specifically to take out Wraith Hive ships. One of these took out of fleet of 7 hives by itself while protecting the evacuation of a civilian outpost towards the end of the war. Sadly they were all destroyed in the final battles to defend Atlantis, and the Lantians only had the time and resources to build a few dozen before they were defeated.

"And now the replicators are building a dozen of them." Weir sounded slightly shocked, almost scared at the concept.

McKay winced "I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news but it's only a dozen for now, I'm detected more hangers such as these under construction in the other shipyard, dozens of them. They're building a fleet of these things."

"Silence"

Then Weir rounded on Sheppard. "John" she said firmly "We have to do something, we've got to try stop them building these ships, even if we only delay them for now. You heard what that replicator said, Oberoth and the others are targeting the human planets, wiping out entire worlds to starve the wraith."

"With this many ships they'll be able to do that in a matter of months. By the time they're done they'll have an armada, Atlantis will most likely be destroyed, and then, then they'll come after earth. Stargate Command will be overwhelmed."

"Elizabeth's right, there's no way earth could handle even a few of these ships. Even with the new Asgard upgrades they're bringing online, we'd still be outnumbered and outgunned." McKay spoke quietly, his tone somber.

Sheppard guessed he was thinking of his sister Jeanie and her family.

"Asgard upgrades?"

"Yeh, you missed that memo when you were .. missing." McKay's voice tailed off again.

"Well" Sheppard hesitated, clearly deep in thought. "If we want to do anything about this we're going to need a plan. We'll also need a way out of here."

Ronon grinned suddenly. "How about we just blow them up, worked last time?"

"Well unless you packed a couple of nukes in your pockets this morning, oh no wait, we don't have any"

"Weren't you supposed to be looking for a ship McKay."

"Well it helps if I'm not continually distracted by people proposing stupid plans that have no chance of possibly succeeding, and as a matter of fact I do have plan!"

"Excellent" exclaimed Sheppard, stepping in swiftly to cut Ronon off and prevent another pointless argument. "Let's hear it McKay."

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McKay nodded, swallowed once and then shifted the image on the HUD from the Dreadnaught back to the plan of the facility.

For my plan to work we need access to a ship, we need to be in orbit and we need access to working weapons.

"Now the ship in this hanger is the only one that's completely finished." He highlighted on the dreadnaught hangers on the Southside of the complex, nearest to the city. "It's the second one they started building; the first is currently being repaired after battle damage."

"The problem is its reactors are stone cold, it's receiving power through umbilicals from the shipyard, but that's about it. Even if I override as many non-essential safety protocols as possible it would take at still take me at least 30 minutes to warm up its reactors enough to take off. The replicators would be on us and aboard the ship likely inside of the 20."

"How about one of the Auroras then" asked Sheppard.

McKay shook his head "the only ones that are finished and powered up likely have full crews onboard, there's no way we can fight nearly 900 replicators."

"So what do we do Rodney?" asked Weir.

McKay tapped on his tablet again, highlighting a hanger on the far side of the complex from the one he had just shown. "This is the only ship in the complex that is running under its own power; I can have it flying inside of 20 minutes. It may not be completely finished but it's definitely space worthy."

"Alright so we steal that one then." Sheppard sounded relieved. "Then what?"

Rodney gave him a wide slow grin. It was a distinctly unsettling expression to see on McKay's face, to Sheppard there seemed something almost feral about it. But at the same time, he could also tell that McKay was about to come out with one of his usual harebrained yet genius solutions.

"No, we take the finished one; we just make it look like we're taking that one."

End of Chapter 2: Sorry for the Cliffhanger.


	3. Chapter 1c

**Apologies for the slightly longer delay, and the rather descriptive and conversationally chapter. I'm sorry it's taking slightly longer to reach the crossover than I intended, but it should be fairly soon. And for the attention of Herald and Macon on , as soon as it starts there will be Scarren bashing. Anyway hope you enjoy. **

**Once again I don't own the rights to either Stargate Atlantis or Farscape or any other the characters/ ideas from these shows.**

**The Others Chapter 1c**

**Asuras**

"Why" said Sheppard

"Why what?"

"Why take that one? Didn't you just say that the replicators would be on us long before we could power up enough to take off?" said Sheppard

"Yes, yes I did" said McKay, looking around at his companions with an expectant face.

"And?" said Sheppard, clearly not getting it.

"Well don't you see?" It sounded like a rhetorical question. The problem was no one else seemed to know what the Canadian was on about. McKay gazed around at his companions' blank faces once more, before giving a slight sigh.

Noticing the warning look in Sheppard's eyes, he hurriedly began to explain.

"Ok, the way I see it, there are three key problems with trying to steal a replicator ship from that shipyard."

"Firstly, even assuming we can get on board as ship without being detected, the replicators aren't stupid! As soon as they detect one of their ships powering up without permission, they'll probably raises the shipyard's shield and lock down the hanger bay doors. If they manage to do either of those, there's no way we'll be able to escape or destroy the shipyards."

"Secondly, the second they detect the increased power levels, they'll send troops to investigate. Even though the unfinished ship has got its backup reactors running it will still take at least 15 minutes to use them to jumpstart the main reactors and get them powered up enough to take off. While there probably aren't that many replicators actually on the complex, they'll still probably manage to reach any of the hanger bays in less than 15 minutes, even less if they use the transporters."

"Worse still if they guess we're trying to steal a ship, they'll probably send ships to the shipyard as well. If they're physically blocking the area above the hanger bay doors, there's no way we could take off."

"Lastly even if we managed to take off, they'll be firing large numbers of drones at us from both the shipyard and the city. Even with our shields up, that many drones at close range just from the shipyards launchers alone would likely deplete our shields and destroy us before we could break orbit."

McKay grimaced slightly, before adding "not to mention the drones and weapons being fired by the finished Auroras on the surface."

There was a moment's silence. Sheppard, Weir, Ronon & Teyla all stared at Rodney, with mixed expressions showing on their features.

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Sheppard coughed slightly. "You said you had a plan Rodney"

"Yes I did, I mean yes I've got one"

"Well, now that you've explained why this is going to be such an easy heist, said Sheppard, sarcastically "would you mind telling us?"

"Right, well while Ronon and I are powering up the replicator ship, you three will need to take out the replicators in the control room and then steal the ZPM's from the power room in the central tower?"

"Just like that?"

"Just like that!" said McKay earnestly. "Look this shipyard is enormously automated there shouldn't be more than 20 or so Replicators actually onsite, all of which will be probably be in the tower. As soon as that decoy ship starts to power up most of them will make a beeline for it. They'll likely only leave a few behind in the control room."

Sheppard nodded slightly, thinking it through. "We should be able to handle 5 or so replicators, if we're quick and catch them off guard"

Then a rather pleasing thought struck him, "does the control room need to stay intact for this plan to work?" he queried McKay.

McKay shook his head. "No, in fact it's probably better if you can damage it a little; it would stop them being able to scan the complex for us so easily."

"So, take the jumper up, shoot a few replicators, plant a little C4, take the ZPMs, then get clear."

McKay nodded, "according to my scans the power rooms only 2 levels down from the control room, which is on the top floor, so you should be able to get there fairly quickly.

"And taking the ZPMs will stop them being able to raise the shield and firing any drones at us from the launcher around the perimeter when we lift off."

"Exactly, plus from what I could access in my hacking, this place isn't linked in with the main cities power grid yet, probably they because they built it in such a rush. Once we pull the ZPMs, this place will only be running on backup power. That means no transporters, no internal sensors, practically nothing save the doors and the lights."

He looked at Sheppard, trying to gauge his mood. The colonel was frowning slightly; clearly something else had occurred to him.

"If there are no transporters going to be working, how are you two going to get to the other ship before the replicators reach you? It's got to be almost a mile across the center and no offense Rodney but you've not exactly won any track records recently."

McKay grinned, "You keep trying to find flaws but I'm one step ahead of you. Got an answer to that one too." He started to tap swiftly on his tablet again.

Sheppard gazed at him, slightly concerned. For a moment there McKay had sounded almost happy about the thought of infiltrating a well defended shipyard, garrisoned by possibly the most advanced and dangerous enemy they had ever encountered, and making off with one of their prize warships.

John could only hope that his friend wasn't cracking up, and this crazy sounding plan would pull through, if they had any luck. Perhaps McKay was just excited. "Or Hyper" he muttered under his breath.

Just then a screen flashed up on the HUD, and he turned to look. It showed once more the schematic of the dreadnaught. As he watched the image rotated and shifted to reveal a horizontal view of one of the ships middle decks. One large compartment was dominated by what looked like a set of circles lying on the deck. He guessed what it was instantly. "Rings?"

McKay gave a nod of assent. "Quite old technology for them really, works well though. I'm guessing they put them onboard to allow them to shift cargo and troops easily between the ship and a planet's surface. Luckily for us, they're powered by the ship's internal systems, so they'll still work once we pull the ZPMs"

"What are rings?" said Ronon, plainly curious.

Sheppard answered him, preventing McKay from launching into a sermon of technobable. He had seen the ring platform in Antarctica on that first momentous day, and had got a good grasp of how it worked.

"They're basically an older ancient version of the Asgard beaming tech like on the Daedalus, but they only work between preexisting points. A bit like the transporters on Atlantis, but with greater range; and you have to stand inside this ring.

Ronon nodded. He didn't understand exactly how the two systems were different, but he got the jist of what Sheppard had said. He was just grateful he had got the simple version. Ronon wasn't slow; he just didn't try to figure out _how _things worked. He was content that they did what they were supposed to. He knew his areas of expertise lay in more _physical_ directions.

He glanced across at Teyla. She returned his gaze with one of her own, and then looked away. As her dark eyes met his he wondered at how calm she looked. Of the five of them, she had said the least on the journey from the fake Atlantis. While the others hadn't talked that much, they had exchanged the usual small jokes and banter as always, each clearly seeking to cheer the others up.

Teyla had said almost nothing, despite all attempts to include her into their conversation. This worried Ronon. He knew from long experience, despite his own terseness most of the time, that it was not good to bottle things up inside. He softly touched her arm to get her attention. It was an unusually gentle gesture for the large Satedan, a side of him that rarely showed.

Teyla gazed at him again. Her eyes were questioning, and slightly surprised.

"Hey" Ronon gave a wry grin "how you doing?"

She seemed to realize what he was up too, for she gave a small smile in return. Then she sighed. "As well as perhaps can be expected I imagine. It still…." She stopped, her words faltering as she failed to find the words to describe her feelings.

Ronon gave another wry grin "I know, you feel like it can't be real, you can't be a copy, because you feel so like you."

She nodded, her small smile showing that was precisely how she was felt.

"Look" he said quietly, leaning forward so that his words would not be overheard, "I know everything all seems rather crazy right now." He took one of her hands in his large paw and gave it a slight squeeze. "The best thing to do now" he said earnestly "is to take things one step at a time. Mckay seems to have _eventually_ found us a ship, so right now we concentrate on getting out of here."

When she did not answer, he carried on, his voice still low. "For all we know, those replicators were lying to us, wouldn't be the first time would it. So let's get ourselves back to Atlantis, and then take things from there ok?"

She looked up, and gave a weak smile, then squeezed his hand in answer.

He grinned openly, happy to see her looking a little more cheerful. "Anyway" he said in a stage whisper "Ancestors help those replicators if McKay's got a plan" and winked.

It was such an unsual thing for Ronon to do, that Teyla actually laughed out loud. Sheppard, who had overheard Ronon's deliberately loud whisper, gave a small snort of laughter, while Weir simply smiled in deep amusement.

Mckay, amazingly, didn't appear to have heard a thing, even though he was closer to the pair than either Weir of Sheppard were.

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"So while you and Ronon distract the guards, we three will steal the ZPMs, then fly the jumper back to the finished ship, where we'll ring you guys aboard." Said Sheppard, summing up the plan as it appeared to him so far, "then what?"

"Yes I was wondering that." The women who thought of herself as Elizabeth Weir had been listening intently to Sheppard and McKay's conversation over the last few minutes. She was surprised to find that she had understood a lot more of the technical aspects than she was sure she would have previously. She could only assume that 4 years with Rodney Mckay had rubbed off on her slightly.

Despite all that, she could still see a gaping flaw in their escape plan, for which Mckay had yet to provide a solution.

I'm sorry Rodney, while I understand the need to decoy away the replicators, and steal the ZPMs: I still don't understand why we're going to try steal that ship in particular. You yourself said it would take us far too long to bring its main reactors online," said Weir.

"Well of course it would. Unlike what some Sci-Fi TV writers seem to think you can't just plug and play a spaceship. It's not like switching on a plug!"

"Then how are we supposed to … oh, _right_" Sheppard broke off, understanding suddenly coming to him.

McKay gave a grin "precisely"

Sheppard shot him a concerned look "that would work?"

McKay looked hurt, "of course it will work"

"No catches, no slight problems?" asked Sheppard. He looked much happier now, but his tone was still cautious.

"No catches, no slight problems" said McKay reassuringly, "though it will require so pretty precise timing, and some nifty hacking on my account."

"So once we've got the ship powered up, we take off?"

"Yep we blow this joint, literally."

"How do we do that exactly?"

"Easy, drones"

"Rodney I don't think I'll have time to target every single ship on the ground before we reach orbit and escape. Plus the shipyard would still be there & it's not like drones cause a huge explosion."

"Don't worry about that, I've got it covered"

"Really, a huge explosion. Mind if I ask how?"

"Not now, just you wait and see."

"_Rodney!_"

Rodney simply gave a grin and refused to answer. Sheppard shot him a concerned look, before heading into the back of the jumper to load up on weapons and C4.

Sometimes he worried about Mckay. For all the scientists aversion to using what he termed "the military solution" to solve a problem, Mckay over the last few years seemed to have a rather _explosive_ track record. Sheppard shuddered slightly as he remembered their frantic jumper flight to escape an explosion that would later destroy 2/3s of the Solar system.

"Then again", he pondered as he loaded up with around 20 large blocks of C4, a P90, a Rocket launcher and several Hi-Exp grenades, "sometimes the obvious military solution seemed the best one!"

Please review, i appreciate constructive comments/criticism


	4. Chapter 1d

**The Others Chapter 1d**

**Asuras: Replicator shipyard complex**

Invisible the jumper hovered steadily over a ramp in the shipyard. With a dull whine the rear hatch lowered and two small figures dropped the short distance to the ground below. The two men swiftly covered the distance to a small sloping ramp leading down into the complex. 

As soon as they were out of site, the jumper spun around, its rear hatch swiftly rising into place and rapidly moved off in the direction of the central tower.

The two men skidded to a stop at the bottom of the ramp and turned a 90 ˚ angle to the right before descending yet another sloping ramp to an armoured door. The two conferred momentarily, and then, after shooting a dark look at his companion, the larger man pulled a long barrelled pistol from a holster. Flicking at a switch on the butt, he aimed it at the dead centre of the door and pulled the trigger.

Sheppard hovered the jumper at a height of perhaps 70 metres above the roof of the central tower. He didn't dare yet touchdown above the control room, fearing that the noise would carry through the metal and alert the replicators. 

Far below him he could see the hatch where they had dropped off Ronon and McKay, its entrance practically invisible from this altitude. Allowing time for McKay to override any locked doors, and the time to reach the hanger and do his stuff, he guessed they had a wait of perhaps 15 minutes.

He didn't doubt McKay's ability to reach the hanger, or come clean on his promise to power up the ship in time. No, what concerned him most was that they had overlooked something. He knew that it would only take one little misjudgement or false move, and they would all be dead in minutes. 

In truth the plan was rather a desperate one, and for it to be successful they had to trust in a lot of guesses and assumptions. Granted most of the time McKay's guesses turned out to be pretty damn accurate, but there were always exceptions. It only took one unpredictable factor, and the plan would turn FURBAR very fast. 

As they sat there, waiting for McKay's signal His mind drifted back to that last disastrous mission in Afghanistan, when one error had lead to disaster. His squadron had been ordered to perform a dawn attack on a Mudejhuddin encampment thought to contain a number of Senior Al Qaeda leaders. By all signs it should have been an easy mission; Intel had reported that the encampment was lightly armed, with no significant AAA or SAM presence. The mission brief had detailed a ranged attack by 4 choppers with a fifth in reserve. 

Sheppard had flown the reserve chopper, his pylons full of dumb rockets and cluster munitions. 

They had flown east through the blackness, reaching the target as dawn broke. However just when they were about to take up their attack positions, their threat receivers had filled with the tones of dozens Surface to Air targeting systems. 

The intelligence officer giving the briefing had screwed up. He had correctly assessed that the compound itself would be lightly defended. What he hadn't told them was that scarcely a mile to the southeast of the compound was a highly camouflaged AL Qaeda training camp. Dug into the solid rock, natural gullies and caverns of the landscape, cunningly disguised by CIA trained resistance fighters; it was practically invisible unless you knew it was there.

Unlike the encampment, this camp was defended by dozens of camouflaged triple A and SAM positions. Most of the weapons were Russian, outdated by US standards, but at practically point blank, it didn't make much difference. Silhouetted against the skyline by the rising sun behind them, the four choppers of Sheppard's unit made easy targets. 

Per orders Sheppard was hanging back several klicks from the main force, hugging the terrain. With growing horror he heard the panicked radio calls, the frantic messages as the four choppers tried to evade the massed weapons pointed at them. Within minutes 3 of the four choppers had been shot down. The fourth ship managed to limp off west, heavily damaged and trailing smoke.

Sheppard contrary to orders from his Commander had stayed behind to escort the damaged craft. With its engines failing and flight controls damaged the pilot had attempted to nurse his wounded chopper back to friendly territory. Despite his best efforts, he had been forced to ditch over 12 miles behind enemy lines. 

Sheppard had hovered overhead for nearly 20 minutes, talking to the downed pilot and crew on the radio. He had called repeatedly for an EVAC chopper, only to be told there were none available. 

As the Mudejhuddin forces closed in, he had tried desperately to hold off the enemy, knowing full well how the downed crew would be treated if captured. Low on fuel, his ammo gone, and with heavier units approaching Sheppard had finally been forced to withdraw. As he swung round for one last pass he had seen the crew huddled around the downed chopper, vainly trying to hold off the enemy with rifles. 

Raging with anger and his helplessness to help them, he had practically crash landed his chopper on its pad, the turbines running on fumes. To his amazement he had been promoted to Major, and decorated for his heroic defence of the downed crew. Then during the enquiry, he had come face to face once more with the intelligence officer responsible for the screw-up. In front of several high ranking officers, Sheppard had punched the man full in the face. 

Unwilling to court-martial a hero, the air force had contented themselves with posting him to Antarctica, his promotion prospects effectively over.

Later it had come out that the intelligence failure was the result of a computer error. Somehow a trainee member of staff had unknowingly erased a number of intelligence reports from sources on the ground in Afghanistan. Among them was a report of a well defended training camp, in the same area as the target encampment.

It was just such a minor error or unpredictable problem that Sheppard feared now. If McKay had under-estimated the number of replicators in the complex, or misjudged the time it would take for them to react. If he had forgotten something or worse if something totally unpredictable yet utterly disastrous occurred, then they had no chance.

In order to enter the complex without setting off any alarms, Ronon had been forced to spend several minutes shooting through the thick alloys of the armoured hatch where they had been dropped off. In a remarkably short period, the red bolts had melted a passable hole in through the metal, allowing first Ronon and then McKay to slip through into the interior passageways of the Shipyard complex. 

Reflecting its highly automated status, with little need for much human access save to the ships and the central tower, the complex's internal corridors were remarkably simple to navigate. Keeping to the shadows as much as was possible in the well lit interior, McKay guided Ronon along long corridors and down several stairways, heading direct for the hanger bay. 

After perhaps 5 minutes McKay had led Ronon out of a stairwell onto a wide passageway. On either side ran a pair of high tech conveyor belts. Just as McKay had predicted, nothing moved in the corridor save themselves, and the unending stream of materials and equipment being carried towards the hangers. Ronon noted that while the gravity conveyor on the right side was busy carrying materials and equipment, the system on the left was at present powered down. 

From time to time the pair jogged past armoured blast doors set into the walls and ceilings. All of them were currently locked open. The corridor was quiet, save for the dull humming of the machinery and the sounds of heavy breathing from McKay, as the scientist attempted to match his companion's speedy pace. 

A little while after entering the corridor, the two pulled up for a breather at another vast pair of blast doors. Here the corridor split into two, as did the conveyor system. After snatching a few moments to catch his breath, McKay indicated that they should take the left hand passageway. Due to the powered down conveyor system, this corridor was decidedly quieter. The sounds of their footsteps echoed loudly in the empty corridor, and from time to time neither of them could help check over their shoulders. 

After they were perhaps ¼ of the way down this new corridor, Ronon began every hundred metres of so to plant explosive charges. The reasoning for this was simple. With this corridor the only access to the hanger save for the hanger doors themselves, blocking it off would gain them valuable time. Neither of them was foolish enough to believe this would stop the replicators completely. They both knew that even if they blocked it heavily in several places, it would only delay their enemy by a few extra minutes. 

They also knew that every extra second they gained meant a greater chance of success. Therefore by the time Ronon deployed his last few blocks of C4, perhaps a little less than half the 2 km long corridor was wired with explosives. It was as Ronon was laying his final charges, placing the blocks of C4 carefully with all the skill and patience of fine craftsman, that Murphy decided to intervene.

It began simply enough. As McKay had already told Sheppard, this particular dreadnaught was still under construction. While the key systems of engines, shields, life support and hyperdrive were operational, there still remained key work to be completed on weapons and many secondary systems.

Thus in itself it was perhaps unsurprising that the gravity conveyer that lined one side of the mined corridor should just then start to power up. 

It was however rather unfortunate for the explosive charges lining the walls. Ronon had done a thorough job, the charges were each placed at key points to maximise effectiveness and block the tunnel as thoroughly as possible. Unfortunately, with all the skill of a trained demolition expert, Ronon had placed a number of charges and detonators in locations that would ensure secondary explosions, in this case, on the power systems of the conveyor. He had also placed the charges where they would be least visible, which unfortunately in this case tended to be behind power distributers and capacitors. 

The conveyor in itself was a simple piece of machinery, although it required a high technological competency to make it work. It was also safe, reliable and possessed any number of safeguards against failure. It even possessed a system to ensure that if one or more sections of the belt failed, the rest of the system would immediately stop, preventing further damage to the goods being transported. 

What the designers had not anticipated was the reaction between the complicated and potentially volatile emitter systems, and a ten pound block of C4 accompanied by a detonator. As the conveyor came online section by section, power was shunted from the direction of the central tower through the emitters. C4 plastic explosive is a notoriously unvolatile substance if stored safely. It can be crushed, shot, even burnt without risk of detonation. What it cannot stand is the explosion of a detonator and extreme heat. 

As the power reached the rigged emitters, the detonators and C4 began rapidly to heat up. McKay, reacting with a speed many would not have credited him with, managed to grab hold of Ronon and shove him towards an alcove in the wall. Seconds later with a thunderous detonation first one then another and another detonator exploded, causing the chain reaction of detonations Ronon had meticulously designed. A shockwave of fire and flying metal flew in both directions of the tunnel, added to by the explosion of the charged conveyor's systems, its safeguards destroyed by the C4. Blast doors that had previously been open rapidly slammed shut at both ends of the explosions to contain the firestorm. 

Thankfully Ronon and McKay were far enough from the explosions to not be locked in by the automated systems. From within the sealed off section of tunnel the two of them could hear a long and dull rumbling, as sections of the ceiling slowly gave way in a thundering of twisted metal and rocks.

As McKay examined their surroundings, he realised how lucky they had been. By amazing chance the explosions had occurred before power could be shunted to the nearest sections of conveyor to them. This meant that the nearest blocks of C4 to the two of them had not in fact detonated. This was an amazing piece of good fortune, for Ronon had been especially creative in the last 100 metres of the tunnel. 

Clearly proud of his own skill with explosives, he had designed an amazingly intricate and unusually large arrangement of C4 blocks around a particularly large power conduit. If that lot had detonated, the two men would likely have not just been killed but vaporised. Exchanging slightly stunned looks at their good fortune, the two men set off at a run towards the end of the tunnel, certain that their presence had been discovered. 

**Shipyard Control Room**

High above in the shipyard complex's control centre, a number of warning lights began to flash on consoles and display screens. The control room was a large circular room, dominated by two central consoles, each with 3 operators, while around the walls were mounted many other consoles and displays, also manned. Despite the vast scale and complexity of the shipyards, there were only 25 replicators actually on site, all of whom were in this one room.

Crossing swiftly to where an operator had signalled for his attention, the site supervisor surveyed the data being displayed. It indicated a major failure in the conveyor system leading to hanger 005. The supervisor was unable to register surprise or irritation, but his consciousness did register something akin to bafflement. The gravity conveyor system was a tried and tested system, with hundreds of built in safeguards. While Lantian technology was not infallible, it very rarely suffered malfunctions or failures. 

Bringing up a separate file, the supervisor checked for information on the materials being shipped at the time of the failure. Once again he was baffled, the goods being shipped were inert raw materials, nothing explosive or potentially combustible. What's more they should have barely reached the affected section, whereas according to the information being displayed, the failure extended for several hundred metres further along the corridor. 

Unable to access sensor information for that area due to widespread power failure, and well aware of the importance of the project in hanger 005, the supervisor ordered three of his personnel to investigate. Despite their hatred for their biological creators, the replicators in their desire to emulate them had become well aware of the usefulness of a physical investigation, where technology and sensors failed. 

**Hanger 005**

As they ran down the ramp from the tunnel towards the huge bulk of dreadnaught 005, Ronon and McKay couldn't help but stare at the vast shape of the ship. Both had seen the Aurora and Daedalus from close up, but this ship dwarfed both of them. Its unfinished hull shone with bright metal in the lights of the hanger, while its low lengthy shape exuded an aura of menace and power that was hard to ignore. 

Its hull looked identical to the schematic Rodney had displayed earlier, only the large weapons emplacements on the flanks, and the numerous point defence systems were absent, but even so the ship looked finished and deadly. It was only when Rodney and Ronon pounded up a ramp into the interior that they saw different. The corridors of the ship were littered with components, crates, consoles and containers, all stacked neatly and ready to be assembled. While the bulk of the ship had been assembled by automated systems, it looked as if they more delicate components were being installed the old fashioned way, by hand. At the entrance port McKay punched in a number of commands into a working console, and with a whirr of machinery all over the hull, docking ports sealed and retracted. 

Ronon had to chase after McKay as the scientist, nimbly skirting the piles of parts in the corridors, headed rapidly aft into the bowels of the ship. He caught up with McKay outside the door to a large compartment filled with machinery. McKay had a thoughtful look on his face, before he gestured for Ronon to follow him inside.

Heading towards a large bank of power conduits and computer crystals in the room's centre, Rodney pulled a block of C4 from a pocket and tossed it to Ronon. 

"Can you place a charge right there?" McKay pointed at what appeared to Ronon to be a point like any other on the huge bank of machinery. "I need it to be configured for remote detonation. You got a spare detonator after all that back in the tunnel?" the scientist added, apparently as an afterthought. 

Ronon gave a grunt "Sure, no problem." He reached over and with surprising gentleness, moulded the explosive into a ledge on the machinery, before inserting a spare remote detonator he had been saving."

Moments later, he was chasing after McKay again. As they pounded through the corridors he couldn't help but wonder at the scientists nimble footing. Usually McKay was one of the clumsiest people he knew. He wondered absently if someone had been giving Rodney dance lessons, then with a small grin on his face, sped up slightly. 

McKay had halted at a large bulkhead door and as Ronon caught up, he ran his hand over the glowing blue crystals of the door mechanism. 

The door slid open with a hiss, and the pair entered. The room was dark, its consoles and screen powered down. As soon as McKay entered lights began to glow in numerous corners and as the scientist scurried around the room, activating controls and systems, view screens and consoles sprang to life. As the lights came on Ronon realised that they were standing in the heart of the ship, the dreadnaught's bridge.

Like its smaller cousin the Aurora, the dreadnaught possessed large armoured viewports facing forward, though these were smaller and seemingly better armoured. The bridge was smaller two, split between two levels, with two doors opening onto the rear section from opposite sides. The rear section was dominated by what looked like a more modern version of a drone chair, while in forward section, down 3 steps there were scatted numerous consoles and duty stations. 

At present McKay was tapped into a console at the rear of the bridge, next to a large screen displaying what looked to Ronon like a table of the ships power levels. McKay continued to tap on his tablet for perhaps a minute, before scanning the screen intently in front of him. The table of power levels had gone, replaced by a numerous lines of ancient.

McKay visibly ran his eyes over the text once more before tapping on his radio. They had until now maintained strict radio silence, uncertain of whether the replicators could track their radio transmissions. Rodney switched on his radio with an audible 'click' then thumbed the transmit button.

"Sheppard, I'm beginning power up 'now'" McKay tapped a key on his tablet. "I estimate we've got 15 minutes until engine ignition." He paused, and then added "Good luck!"

The text on the screen flashed once, before switching to the original display. Through his boots on the deckplates, Ronon could feel a slight vibration, as deep within the hull vast cold reactors were fed power from the one active backup generator. Slowly but steadily, the vast reactors came to life with a low humming noise, and one by one, Ronon saw the power levels on the display begin to rise.

End of part 1D.

Useful reviews as always are very much appreciated.


	5. Chapter 1e

**Well as Promised ladies and gentlemen, the end of chapter 1, and a very very long end it is if I don't say so myself. Sorry it took so long everyone, been a little busy with real life alas. **

**Once again, Farscape and Stargate Atlantis are the property and copyright of their creators etc etc. I don't intend to steal characters or profit in any financial manner from this story, simply to enjoy myself blowing stuff up.**

**The Others Chapter 1e**

**Asuras: ****Shipyard Control Room**

Almost immediately after McKay 'switched on' the dreadnaughts reactors, warning alarms rang out in the complex's control centre. The replicators reacted as swiftly as expected, with the ability to process information many times above that of a human, the supervisor immediately deduced that there were intruders in his facility and reacted accordingly.

Within 20 seconds, a further 17 of his personnel were dispatched to hanger 005, while the additional information was relayed by the subspace link to the 2 replicators dispatched a minute or so earlier. All around the complex, replicator crews began to power up their ships, in anticipation of an escape attempt.

Meanwhile, across the water in the replicator city, dozens of ZPMs began to feed huge amounts of energy to defensive systems and weapons. At hundreds of points across the city drone launchers powered up, while around the outskirts large planetary defence batteries, newly built and still not totally operational, emerged from bunkers and aimed skywards.

Requiring the power of 14 ZPM's alone, a silvery curtain began to rise from various points around the city. Rising steadily into the sky, the vast shield spread to encompass the entire replicator city, until several square miles of glittering towers and spires were protected by a gleaming bubble of energy. It was perhaps the largest shield ever constructed. Shining in the sun, it was testament to the power and technology of the Lantian civilisation.

Perhaps 4 minutes after McKay had began to power up the dreadnaught's reactors, just as the replicator leader was in the process of sealing the hanger doors of hanger 005, a 5.7 x28 mm armour piercing round smashed into the back of his head.

**Sheppard's POV**

As soon as he had received McKay's radio transmission, Sheppard had dropped the jumper like a brick towards the roof of the control tower, pulling out inches above the metal. It had been hair-raising manoeuvre, made even more so by the lack of any sensation of falling, save for the view of the roof drawing nearer and nearer. It had had the desired effect however, and the three of them were out of the jumper and rapidly descending the stairs less than two minutes later.

As they neared the door to the control room, they had slowed their pace and taken the last flights of stairs as quietly as possible. When they had finally reached the control room doors, Sheppard had checked his weapons, waiting as the others did the same. Even Weir was clutching a P90, and Sheppard watched as she checked the magazine and fire mechanism with a professionalism and competency that surprised him. From the expression on her face however, she was still distinctly uncomfortable at holding a weapon, but he had insisted.

Gesturing in sign language, he watched until the others had taken up positions on either side of the door.

He mouthed "on three" to both of them, then raised his P90. With his left hand he counted down the seconds, then as Weir swiped her hand over the door crystals, he charged into the room, weapon up and firing.

There were 5 replicators in the room, 3 of whom were clustered around a console opposite the door, facing a screen on the wall beyond. Sheppard's fire was aimed at these three, while Teyla went left, targeting the other two technicians manning consoles. Sheppard watched as his arming piercing rounds, tore into the head and upper torso of one of the replicators. Like normal the rounds did no appreciable damage, but it did throw the man off balance long enough for Sheppard to take cover behind a pillar. Dropping his P90 so it hung from its clip on his harness, Sheppard hauled on the strap of the weapon over his shoulder. To his left he caught site of Weir firing off a full magazine with unsteady arms, while Teyla rapidly reloaded. Luckily the replicators did not appear to be armed, but that didn't make them any less deadly at close quarters.

The only truly effective weapon against replicators seemed to be ARGs, but even those were of limited use in a long battle, for the replicators had shown they could speedily adapt. Sheppard was banking on the unproven theory that while Replicators could withstand automatic weapons and even Ronon's gun, they might be a little less resistant to high explosive.

As a swung back around the column, his weapon up and tracking, he saw the three replicators were still clustered together, seemingly caught off guard. Sheppard sighted down the long tube, braced himself against the recoil, then pulled the trigger. With a whoosh and a jet a flame the launcher fired, shooting 3 pounds of naquida enhanced high-explosive towards the replicators.

In the minute amount of time it took for the missile to cross the room, Sheppard was already twisting aside, diving for cover behind a sturdy looking console. As he hit the deck there was a thunderous explosion, followed by the sound of shrapnel peppering the walls and ceiling of the room.

Slightly stunned, he nonetheless was on his feet in short order, his P90 up and tracking. There was a gaping hole in the wall where the console had been while of the replicators there was no sign. The room was smoky, still filled with debris from the explosion. To his left he saw the two remaining replicators, once again coming under heavy fire as Weir and Teyla recovered from the explosion.

These two replicators were thankfully also unarmed, and were now trying to reach his two colleagues to engage them hand to hand. They were being hindered by the maze of consoles and equipment that covered the control room's floor, forcing them to bunch up as they advanced. As he watched a fresh burst of fire ripped into one of the replicator's shoulders, the rounds tearing a cluster of small ragged holes.

The replicator halted momentarily, blocking its colleagues advance for a moment, allowing all three of the attackers to once again open fire with a fierce fusillade of bullets. Sheppard P90 hammered against his shoulder as he fired off the rest of his magazine. Three fiery streaks of tracer flashing across the room told him that he was near the end of his clip and he crouched down to reload before it ran out. Across the room he saw Teyla doing the same.

In the smoky room, the light glinted off the grenades on her vest, giving him an idea. Getting her attention with a hand movement, he tapped the grenades, tilted his head towards the replicators, and then gestured for her to follow his lead. Her dark eyes met his; she nodded calmly, while her hands continued to reload her weapon.

He counted down from five on his fingers so she could see, then stood up and opened fire once more. The replicators had drawn significantly nearer in the short time it had taken them to reload, and were separated from Teyla and Weir only by perhaps 6 metres and a substantial looking console. Teyla's fire into the leader halted him momentarily, while Sheppard's shots forced the replicator and his companion sideways into the gap between a substantial support pillar and the console. As Sheppard continue firing long bursts, he saw Teyla draw the pins from a pair of grenades and toss them into the confined space where the replicators were being held by P90 fire. Sheppard pulled the pins from two grenades of his own, and after counting for three seconds, hurled them after Teyla's. For good measure he added a phosphorus grenade.

All three of them then emptied what remained in their clips into the replicators, desperate to hold them in place for just a few moments longer. Then with a dull thump the first of Teyla's grenades exploded. The shockwave hurled Sheppard to the floor, so that when the remainder of the Hi-Exp grenades went off, he was already sheltered from the blast. For a second or two, a sun seemed shine blindingly in the windowless room, as the white phosphorus grenade cooked off in a sheet of white flame. Thankfully the confined space forced most of the explosive force upwards, away from the three companions. Nonetheless sharp fragments did rain down among them, and from behind the consoles to his right Sheppard caught a sharp cry.

Cautiously he stood up, having already reloaded. The cluster of consoles in front of them were blackened and twisted, the metals slightly melted by the heat of Sheppard's last grenade. Of the two replicators there was no sign. From behind a substantial pillar to his left two heads emerged, peering out cautiously. Teyla and Weir cautiously emerged, Weir holding her P90 ready as she gazed carefully around. All in all Sheppard approved, while all the non-military senior staff had received survival and basic weapons training, Weir held the weapon with an unconscious familiarity that he found both reassuring and mildly concerning. Not the first time in those few frantic minutes, he wondered where and how the peaceful and diplomatic Elizabeth Weir had become so like a trained solider?

Any thoughts he had of asking for an explanation vanished immediately that he got a close look at Teyla. The small Athosian was cradling her right arm gingerly, her face taut. Stepping closer he saw that the dark material of her sleeve was equally dark with blood. Pulling out a knife, he gently sliced open the sodden material. Soon a long deep cut was revealed, caused he guessed by a piece of flying shrapnel. As he watched the cut rapidly closed, and soon the angry scar itself had disappeared, leaving behind unmarked warm skin beneath his fingers.

The wound might be gone, but the shock and memory of it remained. Teyla fingered the skin of her now healthy gingerly, running her fingers over where the wound had been. She touched the sodden material of her sleeve tentatively and then jerked her fingers away with a shudder. She bent down to collect her P90, and with a white face Sheppard saw that a sharp sliver of metal the shape of a dagger was embedded deep in the stock.

From its position it would likely have pierced Teyla's chest near her heart, if not for the tough material of the carbine. Teyla recognised it too. She grasped the sliver, wrapped part of her torn sleeve around it and with a wrench tore it free. Hurling it across the room, she reloaded swiftly, eyes positively burning with anger and horror.

Gazing around the smoky and battered control room, Sheppard hurried towards one of the two main consoles (the other was a twisted and scorched wreck) pulling a piece of paper from his breast. As he with difficulty tried to decipher McKay's hurried scrawl, he cursed mentally the need to preserve radio silence. Well aware however that the other replicators could at that moment be heading back towards this very room, he hurriedly placed his hand on the crystals of the console.

For a few seconds Teyla saw his face deepen into lines of fierce concentration, as he mentally willed the complicated systems to obey his commands. His eyes opened abruptly and he scanned the screen in front of him. Lines of ancient text seemed to race across the flowing screen, apparently in response to his actions. He gave a nod and with a strained look lifted his hands from the crystals. Then snatching up his P90 from where he had placed it on the surface of a console, he gestured for the others to follow him as he ran for the stairway.

They pounded down the stairs, until two floors down they entered a small room that audibly hummed with power and energy. There set into a pedestal in the centre of the room were two active Zero point modules, glowing softly with a yellow light. Wasting no time Sheppard hurriedly tapped on the controls to react both of them from their interfaces. With a soft hiss, the two glowing crystals rose from their mountings, to be snatched by Sheppard, who placed them inside Weir's rucksack, while slinging the bag they had replaced over his shoulder.

Less than a minute later, they were entering the still smoky control room, its surviving consoles and screens dark now that the ZPMs had been pulled. The little illumination there was came from dull emergency lights set into the walls, or from the daylight streaming through the gaping whole Sheppard's missile had blown in the outer wall. Sheppard paused briefly in the centre of the room to deposit the black bag from over his shoulder under an intact console.

Untying the cords that bound the bag, he opened it to reveal stacked blocks of C4, maybe 20 of them, bound by cords and sticky tape. Reaching into a pocket of his vest, Sheppard took the small metallic shape of a remote detonator cap, and jammed it into the topmost block. With a flick of his finger he armed the device, and then pushed the block deep into a shadowy corner. It was practically invisible, save only for a miniscule glow of red light.

Moments later the three of them were racing as fast as they could back up the stairs towards the roof, weapons bumping painfully against their sides and chests as they ran. Gasping for breath they burst out into the sunlight of the roof, Sheppard holding up the rear, casting anxious glances back down the darkened shaft, nervous of pursuit. Last of all he walked carefully backwards through the hatch into the cloaked jumper, watching the door to the stairway. As he came within the cloaking field, the jumper became visible, the dull bronze material of its hull glowing welcomingly in the bright sunshine.

Slamming a hand down on the hatch closing mechanism, he ran for the pilot's seat, and had lifted off before the rear hatch was even fully closed. The jumper leapt into the air like a startled bird, and he hauled on the controls to send it around on a heading for hanger 002. When they were perhaps 200 metres from the rooftop, and almost 100 metres above it, he slowly swung the jumper 180 ˚ in mid air, so that the tower was visible through the forward viewport.

Checking his watch, he saw to some amazement that only 7 minutes had elapsed since he had received McKay's short radio transmission. He hoped that Rodney was keeping one eye firmly on his own watch as well, if anything timing was even more important for himself and Ronon. John trusted and deferred to Ronon's judgement in many areas, split-second timing was not one of them.

But since he had done all that he could for the moment, he now had one final matter to take care of. Reaching deep into one of the pockets of his vest, Sheppard pulled out a small piece of equipment, and checked it over. For a second Sheppard once again couldn't help but marvel at the effort made by the 'rebel' replicators to emulate the Atlantis's expedition's weapons and equipment, even down to the C4 and the stamping on the ammunition. Earlier, to both he and Ronon's infinite delight, when searching the jumper they had also discovered a number of remote detonator keys.

An immensely useful piece of kit, it allowed the remote detonation of explosive charges from a safe distance. As Sheppard now demonstrated. Flicking up the safety guard he placed a finger on the switch and after uttering aloud the traditional words, pushed it forward with a click.

**Main command bridge of Dreadnaught 005: Hanger 005, Replicator**** Shipyard complex.**

Standing on the bridge of the as yet unnamed dreadnaught, Ronon anxiously watched for replicators entering the hanger bay. The bridge windows, facing towards the bow, presented a wide 180 ˚ view of the vast underground shipyard, allowing him to keep an eye on the entrance to the access tunnel. The entrance was actually on a height slightly above that of the deck on which he now stood, for the huge dreadnaught was set deep into a trench in the centre of the room, presumably to allow easy access to the upper sections of the ship during construction. Unfortunately both the angle of the tunnel and bright lights around the entrance made it difficult for him to see far down the passageway.

He snatched a glance backwards towards McKay, and saw that he hadn't moved since the last brief glance. The scientist was still huddled over a dissected console, busy with his tablet and innumerable different crystals.

Another quick glance, this time at his watch, a useful gift from Sheppard that had appeared soon after he had joined the Atlantis team, told him that barely 7 minutes had passed since McKay had started to bring the ships generators online. He felt slightly surprised, for he was sure more time had passed than that. Nonetheless he continued to watch earnestly, his eyes patiently scanning the tunnel entrance through the transparent viewport.

A long echoing rumble, clearly audible through the ship's hull, made him look warily at the wide tunnel, his eyes straining to penetrate the glare. Ronon thought at first that another section of tunnel had collapsed, and then a thin shaft of light hit the ship's hull in front of him. The beam of light widened swiftly, expanding in either direction and looking up Ronon saw that the vast metal hatch of the hanger was steadily sliding open down the middle.

As they had grown accustomed to the dull artificial light in the tunnels and corridors, the bright sunlight shinning directly down into the hanger hurt his eyes, and caused him to hold up a hand to shade them. Blinking steadily, his vision soon returned to normal and to his amazement he discerned the solid mass of McKay standing close by, gazing up at the now wide open door with satisfaction. Ronon had not even heard the scientist approach.

The scientist hurried over to a console near the control chair, and brought up a schematic on its display. He tapped on it briefly, nodded once, and then hurried back to his original position at the rear of the bridge, the console already blinking out as he left.

Ronon gazed absent-mindedly at the console for a moment, wondering what McKay was up too. He soon snapped out of, judging that it was his job to protect McKay, not try work out what the man was doing. He could hardly protect the busy scientist by daydreaming. Anyway, he doubted he would get an explanation right now, even if could understand it, which was unlikely based on past experience.

Shaking his head slightly, he turned and gazed back out through the window again. Almost immediately he knew that something was different about the view. The bright sunlight lighting up the vast underground space made it difficult at first, but then a cloud must have hidden the sun for a moment, and he saw distinctly that all the lights around the hanger had gone dark. Equipment around the hanger that a moment previously had hummed and glowed from the lights of consoles and displays was now lifeless. Now the only artificial sources of light were small glowing blue panels that provided just enough light to see by, clearly some form of emergency lighting.

Slightly alarmed, Ronon called out to McKay

McKay looked up from his console in a hurry, knocking several crystal circuits onto the floor in his haste.

Ronon gestured out the window, and explain what he had noticed.

McKay look relieved, and then explained when he caught the mystified look on Ronon's face.

"There's nothing to worry about, it just means the Sheppard and the others have pulled the shipyard's ZedPMs, they've made good time too" he added as he checked his watch. At Ronon's expression he added curiously "It was part of the plan, didn't you hear that bit??"

The Satedan shook his head wordlessly.

Rodney shrugged, and as he lowered his head back towards the console Ronon caught the muttered comment. "Well you were probably loading yourself up with a small arsenal at the time."

Ronon grinned slightly at the words McKay hadn't meant him to hear, patting the rocket over his shoulder fondly.

As he continued to watch the entrance of the access tunnel, a task that was even more difficult now that the lights inside it had also gone out, he couldn't help but glance up every now and then. The open hanger doors made him feel slightly vulnerable, for surely the replicators must have noticed that something odd was going on. He couldn't help but be concerned that the next quick glance would show the once empty patch of sky filled with the bulk of a fully armed replicator warship.

It was as he was taking another quick glance skywards, barely a minute after the lights went out, that the floor shook violently beneath his feet.

He had been leaning against a thick metal support and having unsurprisingly failed to anticipate that the deck would heave violently beneath his feet with no warning, was hurled off balance towards the centre of the room. Luckily he was able to grab hold of convenient handhold on a console with a firm grip and halt his momentum before he smashed his head against something painful.

Just as he was collecting his thoughts, trying to work out what happened, a loud dull thump echoed noisily around the complex. As the echoes died away, having reverberated loudly around the confined space of the hanger, Ronon scrambled to his feet, rushing to check on McKay.

He found the scientist lying flat on his back, gazing wide eyed up the ceiling, his tablet clutched against his chest like a shield. He looked shocked, but unhurt. As Ronon heaved him back up onto his feet, he clutched shakily at a nearby console.

"What was that?" he asked, breathing deeply.

Ronon shrugged, "sounded like an explosion"

McKay shot him an exasperated look, "really."

Ronon grinned "yeh and I think I know what and who."

**Blocked tunnel to Hanger 005. **By the time Sheppard Weir and Teyla first burst into the shipyard's control room, the first three replicators despatched by the supervisor were already standing at the Y junction in the corridor Ronon and McKay had jogged down earlier, surveying the sealed blast doors blocking the tunnel to hanger 005. They had arrived there a good 30 seconds earlier, and had already discovered a number of Ronon's demolition charges which had failed to detonate. Immediately recognising the implications, and the intended purpose of the explosive, the 3 armed guards had requested the blast door be opened. The further 17 replicators were at the same moment a good half way down the main tunnel towards them, when Sheppard's opening rounds tore into the replicators in the control room.

As the subspace link informed the replicators in the tunnel of the attack on their leader, 10 split off and headed at a fast space back towards the stairs. The reached them in under a minute, 5 ascending towards the control room, 5 descending towards the nearest transporter. The remaining 7 continued on towards hanger 005, while further down the tunnel while the original three had already sprinted through the opening blast door and into the blocked tunnel.

The 5 heading down the stairs towards a transporter soon ran into a hitch, for as soon as they reached the transporter station and entered the cubicle, the entire system shut down as Sheppard pulled the two ZPMS.

Unable to transport directly to the tower's transport station as they had planned, the 5 instead continued on down the stairways towards the very depths of the complex. Here, buried directly beneath the central tower, they entered the shipyard's auxiliary control room, intending to use the shipyard's internal sensors to track the intruders. Unfortunately for them, as McKay had also foreseen, the failure to yet link the complex with the main city' power supply meant that once the ZPMs had been pulled, the shipyard had only minimal reserves of emergency power. And so, despite their frantic efforts to reroute every last available bit of energy, the most complicated system the replicators in the control room could access, was that which adjusted the colour of the emergency lighting.

The other 5 continued to scale the stairways up to the top of the central tower, heading for the control room on foot. They were ascending at an amazingly swift pace, far beyond anything any human was capable of. Unfortunately for them it wasn't fast enough! They had only climbed perhaps 2 thirds of the way up to the control room by the time Sheppard and the others were boarding the jumper. A few moments later, as the replicators entered the final stairway shaft up to the head of the tower, sheppard sent the detonation signal to massed blocks of C4 in the mangled control room.

The explosion was at least _three_ times the magnitude of that which had destroyed the Atlantis gate room during the retake of the city by Sheppard & Co. Furthermore the tower housing the shipyard's control room was considerably less resilient than the central spire of Atlantis. To say the force of the explosion was destructive would be a slight understatement. Sheppard had in all honesty _slightly_ miscalculated the destructive force of his bomb.

Instead of just completely destroying the control room and the floors above and below, which it did very efficiently, it also effectively tore the upper 1/3 of the tower from its foundations on the the rest of the spire.

The section of stairway which contained the 5 replicators on their way up, twisted and buckled by the weight of the shifting tower, effectively compressed to the size of a _small _cabinet in less than 3 seconds. Needless to say, the replicators inside were also crushed, fused irreversibly to the metal and alloys around them.

As for the ten replicators heading rapidly down the tunnel, they were ironically delayed by their own safety systems. Ronon and McKay had correctly judged that the roof of the tunnel was now collapsed in many places. For hundreds of meters the 2km tunnel was sealed with rock and earth and twisted metal. Yet for every hundred metre of blockage, there remained sections that were intact, clear of rubble where no explosives had been placed.

Annoyingly, at least for the replicator security force, it was in these intact sections that they encountered sealed blast doors, nearly half a meter thick, constructed from some of the strongest alloys the Alterrans had ever discovered. These had sealed automatically in attempt to contain the earlier explosion of the conveyor system, and with no power in the complex, these enormously heavy doors could not even be retracted by manual overrides of their control systems.

Their locking mechanisms were frozen shut as if fused together. So not only were the replicators forced to pick their way through the shattered sections of tunnel, but also to slowly shift their bodies nanite by nanite through the thick metal doors, a time consuming and slow process. Even so, the three replicators sent on in advance were steadily nearing the hanger, while the other 7 only lagged a few hundred metres behind.

**Bridge of Dreadnaught 005, Ronon's POV **System after system came online as McKay routed power to navigation, shields and engines. With a dull roar audible through the ships thick hull, the huge sublight engines mounted at the rear of the ship came online in a glow of bright energy. Landing struts retracted upwards into the hull on McKay's typed commands leaving the huge spaceship hovering just metres above the floor of the hanger.

14 minutes since initial power up.

McKay took a long deep breath, and then said slowly "Ok, here we go!"

Slowly but steadily, the huge ship began to rise smoothly upwards, as McKay ran from console to console juggling the work of 7 trained crew by himself. Ronon watched the hanger floor fall start to fall away.

Then before his eyes the ship's shields gleam yellow as a blue blot of energy struck them. Gazing down from the bridge windows, he saw a trio of replicators exit the dark entrance of the tunnel at a run, a few moments too late. They continued to fire, sending a stream of blue energy upwards towards him. The bolts of plasma were absorbed easily by the powerful shields, which considered they were designed to withstand close range combat with Wraith Hive ships, was unsurprsing. As Ronon looked onhe glimpsed fast moving shapes in the tunnel behind them, presumably other replicators. With a grin of satisfaction he triggered the remaining charges in the tunnel entrance.

The blast wave was shrugged off easily by the shields, but the replicators were not so fortunate. The already weakened tunnel collapsed spectacularly, crushing the replicators and their reinforcements under thousands of tons of debris.

As the Dreadnaught rose above the lip of the hanger doors, its shields began to grow steadily yellow as they were impacted by volley after volley of drones. Clinging onto a girder from support, Ronon felt the vast ship shudder as explosion after explosion rippled along the shields protecting its hull.

With McKay typing furiously, he saw that the ship was beginning to rotate steadily on its access as it hovered a good 50 metres above the open hanger doors. As it swung, a number of small ships of a type he had not seen before came into sight, approaching rapidly from the direction of the city. A stream of bright yellow lights curved away from them towards their supposedly escaping ship.

He ran down the few steps between him and McKay, every so often pausing to grab hold of something as the ship shook still more violently. On the screens all around McKay's console bright lights were flashing frequently, their text unintelligible to him, but the meaning was obvious. Staggering slightly at a particularly violent shudder, he grabbed hold of the chair on which McKay was seated. The scientist was still typing furiously, his fingers flying over the small keyboard of his tablet.

"Shouldn't we be going McKay?" Ronon yelled in his ear over the noise of the explosions.

"Not just yet" Rodney answered tensely.

The ship shook more violently, control crystals sliding off McKay's console and onto the floor, to be crushed underfoot as the two men struggled to retain their footing.

"_McKay_!"

"_Not yet!_"

A loud claxon began to sound from console off to their right.

McKay threw himself out of the chair and over to the offending duty station, eyes scanning the data flashing in front of his eyes.

"What's that" shouted Ronon, clinging to a pillar for dear life.

"Imminent Shield failure" McKay shouted back, "Shield strength is at 20 and falling fast"

"I thought you said this thing's shields were seriously tough McKay?" retorted Ronon angrily.

"I did! I also said it wasn't completely _finished _yet" he retorted sharply, running back to his original station at the rear of the bridge, Ronon right on his heels.

McKay's face was pale, his forehead beaded with sweat, yet he continued to type commands into the navigation console.

"Come on, come on, come one" he was muttering, seemingly unaware he was actually speaking out loud.

Just when Ronon was considering knocking the scientist out and slinging him over his shoulder, not an attractive prospect, the console in front of McKay gave series of loud bleeps, and Ronon felt the vast ship once more begin to alter its position beneath his feet.

"Done" McKay's shout was triumphant, as he snatched out the leads interfacing his tablet and bundling them under one arm.

Whatever the scientist might have been going to say next was cut off in a sharp intake of breath as Ronon grabbed him hard by the arm and literally hurled him towards the door.

As they rushed down the littered corridors and clattered down hatchways to reach the ring room, McKay managed to pull free of Ronon's iron grip to trigger his earpiece

"Sheppard, stand by, we're coming over!" he radioed breathlessly.

As he caught sight of the ring room, he snatched Ronon's detonator from its pouch and ignoring the Satedans surprised protest, triggered the detonator they had planted earlier. The explosion echoed loudly through the hull, slightly muffled by detonations of the replicator drones.

As the two skidded to a halt in the centre of the ring platform, Ronon turned to angrily demand an explanation from McKay, but the scientist ignoring the other's anger completely, reached for and triggered his own radio headset.

"Sheppard, ring us over now!"

He spoke swiftly, for all around them they could hear the sound of warning claxons and explosions as the replicator's drones bit into the thick armour of the now unshielded dreadnaught.

As the sets of rings rose up from the floor around them, Ronon heard the ship's engines fall suddenly silent and felt the deck lurch downwards. Then with a flash of white light, the ring room was gone.

As Ronon and McKay vanished inside the matter stream of the ring transporter, the vast bulk of dreadnaught 005 seemed to stagger in mid air. The replicators ceased fire, as the vast ship, its upper hull pockmarked with fire and small explosions halted in mid air. Then with something akin to shock, they saw the bright glow of the engines at the rear subside and vanish. With deceptive slowness, the ship began to plummet bow first towards the ground, the smaller replicator ships hurriedly manoeuvring to avoid collision.

With a rending crash and screech of tortured and buckling metal, the ship's enormous bow impacted with the ground. It tore deep into the upper levels of the shipyard around the hanger, lower compartments buckling and compressing inwards, the armour plate being torn from its mountings. Finally, its momentum spent, it came to rest like a beached whale, tilted onto its side across the hanger bay doors from which it had risen.

**Ring room of Dreadnaught 002 **John watched anxiously as the ring's flashed up from the floor of the ring room, P90 at the ready. He gave a sigh of relief as when the bright flash faded, McKay and Ronon stood on the deck, looking decidedly bedraggled and smoke-stained.

He opened his mouth to congratulate them, but closed it when he caught the look on Rodney's face. The scientist didn't look in the mood for light conversation just then. Striding across the room he roughly shoved Sheppard aside and using a knife prised open the crystal tray on the Ring's control pedestal. Fishing around inside for some moments, he then with an effort wrenched a number of crystals out of the delicate circuitry. The warm blue light on the console died immediately, and McKay stuffed the stolen crystals into a pocket of his vest.

He then snapped his fingers urgently at Sheppard. "Where are they?" he enquired urgently.

"Engine Room, with Elizabeth"

McKay nodded, took a deep breath, wished him a brief "good luck", and then rushed off down a corridor without another word.

John watched his swiftly retreating figure for a second, and then exchanged a wry smile with Ronon, before the pair of them set off for the bridge at a sprint, Ronon leading the way.

As they ran, Ronon found the breath to ask "Was that you earlier, the explosion I mean?"

Sheppard, struggling slightly to keep up by his side, didn't answer straight away, until the pair had to wait for a pair of bulkhead doors to open. Panting slightly he nodded "I think I over did it a little bit" he added ruefully.

Ronon grinned at him, as they sprinted through the now open door, climbed another ladder, hurtled along yet another corridor, up through another hatchway, before gasping for breath they reached the open door to the dreadnaught's bridge.

Teyla was already there, looking nervous. Ronon hurried over concerned as he noticed her bloody sleeve, but she waved her arm to show him she was fine. Meanwhile Sheppard headed swiftly for the control chair, climbing into the padded seat and resting his fingers gently on the controls.

As before, consoles and displays sprang to life around the room, sensor data, engine status, communications, shields weapons and innumerable other systems. Sheppard leaned back in the chair, catching his breath, waiting for the word from McKay.

Rodney skidded into the engine room at a run, his shoes squeaking slightly on the deck plates. After a quick glance at Elizabeth, and a brief smile of greeting, the harassed scientist once again went to work. Rushing around the room activating systems and consoles, he gestured for Weir to bring him the black bag she had slung over one shoulder.

After briefly ducking underneath the main engineering console to attach his tablet, the scientist once again started pulling out crystals, chucking some away, rearranging others, all the while muttering loudly to himself.

Weir, standing nearby, only caught brief snatches of what he was saying, but it seemed to consist mainly of things like '_redirect primary power interface...adjust power modulation rate to compensate ... override engine safety protocols._'

Then at a impatient gesture from Rodney, she unzipped her bag and reached inside with both hands, grasping one of the items within.

The coating of the heavy crystalline shape was slippery beneath her fingers, as she carefully handed the softly glowing zero point module to him. After gazing at it briefly with a blissful expression on his face, Mckay carefully slotted the tip of it into an interface in the centre of the room. Another quick push, and with a slight hissing sound, the ZPM descended into the centre of the pedestal.

Seated in the control chair, Sheppard felt the difference immediately. In his mind, systems that had previously flashed red when he tried to access them now all were flashing a welcoming green. He now mentally began to power up every major system on board, from engines to energy weapons. He felt his perception expand as the ships powerful sensors came online, and started to use them to judge the situation above ground. He could detect 5 small mobile and 1 large unmoving energy signatures at relatively close range, presumably clustered around the now empty hanger on the far side of the complex.

Far beyond the shattered wreck of dreadnaught 005, and in a wide perimeter around him, he was now also registering a number of powerful energy signatures. From their concentric layout he guessed that some of the finished Aurora class ships were powering up, no doubt preparing to enter orbit and defend the planet in case of attack.

Hastily, having sealed all access hatches, including the hanger where they had parked their puddle jumper, Sheppard started to power up the dreadnaught's powerful engines in preparation for takeoff. It was then that he noticed one small issue that McKay had failed to mention. He triggered the ships internal comms.

"McKay, is there something you _forgot _to do?" Sheppard's voice, sounding dangerously calm, rang through the large engineering compartment.

McKay, throwing a confused look a Weir, slammed a hand down a crystal control and replied.

"What? No, I mean what the hell are you talking about?"

Sheppard's reply was decidedly terse, like the colonel was trying to prevent raising his voice. "I'm talking about the _very thick _and _very closed _hanger door over our heads preventing me from taking off!"

"_What?" _McKay seemed so shocked he actually failed to hit the control to open the control channel.

Then he triggered it and rolling his eyes replied. "Sheppard, we are sitting in possibly the most lethal warship in this galaxy, or any galaxy for that matter Why don't you choose the obvious solution to our problem? You know the '_military solution_' you're so keen on!"

There was no reply from the bridge, but on the upper hull of the dreadnaught, a number of small hatches speedily slid open.

* * *

If anyone had been watching it would have been an amazing sight. Like a line of roman candles, a series of powerful explosions rippled in a long line down the middle of the hanger doors. Then a salvo of drones, phasing through the metal, rose vertically into the air, before arcing speedily down to impact further on the thick alloys of the doors. Before any of the replicators could even turn their ships to react to this unexpected inferno, a huge black shape burst upwards through the flames and fire like a phoenix from the ashes. Twisted pieces of metal hurtling skywards were thrown clear of the ascending ship by shields that glowed bright in the sunlight.

Seated in the control Chair, Sheppard winced slightly as the immense G forces of their near vertical assent pushed down on his shoulders. Less than a second later, the pain was gone, as the advanced inertial damping systems reasserted their hold and restored normal gravity inside the hull. Ronon and Teyla thankfully had strapped themselves into the seats prior to takeoff, or goodness what state they would now be in.

He triggered the internal comms once more: "Mckay, Elizabeth, you guys ok back there"

Elizabeth's voice came back over the speakers, sounding a little strained but otherwise ok. "We're are little shaken, but both fine john, don't worry. Rodney got me strapped in safely before we launched."

Sheppard made a mental note to thank Mckay for making sure of that, he hated to think how he'd have felt if something had happened to Elizabeth, after they'd only just found her again.

Just then McKay's voice came over the intercom. "Hey Sheppard, slow up on the engines a little, remember this thing's brand new. I don't want them to burn out several thousand feet up and have us fall horribly to our deaths because we were too rough with them."

Sheppard had been keeping an eye on the engine readings himself, and while he couldn't see anything wrong, he decided it was probably best to be careful. With a mental command to the ship's control systems, he cut some of the power being fed to the engine systems, instantly feeling the ship cease to vibrate as violently around him. With a slight smiled of wonder, he felt the ship's automated systems automatically take charge of the dreadnaught assent into orbit, plotting a safe exit vecotr for him while he focussed the sensors on the shipyard far below.

As the dreadnaught continued its steady climb towards the planet's orbit, he focussed it's sensors on the vast replicator city. Protected by its huge shield, drones were already beginning to spit from its launchers towards them, but they were already well out of range and he guessed it would take at least 3 minutes for anything to reach them.

The shipyard complex was lifeless. With no power the potent drone launcher systems around the perimeter were little more than advanced junk. As the ship continued to rise, they remained motionless, their launch ports frozen shut, blind to the escaping vessel that still lay easily inside their weapons range.

Bringing the drones online for the second time that day, he once again opened a channel to the engine room

"McKay, you mentioned something earlier about a way to blow up the complex, care to enlighten me now?"

Mckay , when he replied, sounded deeply concerned.

"Sheppard, target the decoy ship with drones and then get us the hell out of here. I'm picking up close to a thousand drones on their way, I've got our hyperdrives are already powering up."

"Roger that McKay, targeting drones now, preparing to open a hyperspace window as soon as they're away"

Just 12 drones shot from the launchers at Sheppard's mental command, but it was enough. As they plummeted down into the atmosphere, travelling at an incredible speed, their sophisticated onboard systems locked onto the huge power signature that was the crashed dreadnaught 005.

Counter fire from a number of auroras managed to shoot down a good 8 of the drones. The ninth, finding its target blocked by another vessel, locked onto the reactor of one of the smaller replicator ships and detonated inside the shields, making the small craft explode in a fireball.

The final three reached their target, and as instructed drove straight through the battered armour of the downed ship in a phased state, heading for its reactors. Deep inside the hull, the three drones exploded, causing serious damage to control systems and the reactor casings.

Replicator ship reactors, like those of the Lantians they were copied from, possessed innumerable safety systems and emergency shutdown procedures.

While the drone damage to the control systems was severe, the ship's computer should have still been able prevent an explosion, by automatically beginning a procedure that would have resulted in the ship's reactors bleeding off excess energy until they shut down from lack of fuel. The reactors would have been useless until replaced, but a dangerous and catastrophic overload would have been avoided.

Unfortunately for the replicators, McKay had spent a good 5 minutes effectively shredding the ships automated systems. With the skill of a true problem-solver, he had swiftly figured out how best to effectively cripple the ship's automated emergency response systems, and so prevent just such a safety procedure being implemented.

Thus when the drones ripped into the downed dreadnaught's engine room, the vast energies of the ship's reactors, without the restraining influence of the ship's control systems, began to spike dangerously. Claxons wailed desperately in the ship's control spaces, but even if there had been trained personnel onboard, there was nothing they could have done to avert disaster.

The explosion when it came was enormous. For a millisecond the vast energy wave was contained within the ship's hull and then, it burst outwards in every direction. As Mckay had planned, ditching the dreadnaught on the surface, instead of just destroying it in its hanger, meant that the force of the explosion spread in all directions.

First the shockwave wave washed over the complex far ahead of the actual explosion, tossing complete and incomplete ships aside like twigs in the wind. At a number of points around the complex, the shock wave impacted on the shields of ships that were rising slowly out of their docks in pursuit of the escapee. Shields glowed in steady glove around their hulls, as reactors groaned under the strain of maintaining shield coherence in the face of such a shockwave.

But, as a testament to the skill of the replicators, the shields held, protecting the few ships that had brought them online in time. Only seconds later however, the blast wave expanded to envelop these few intact ships in a sea of flame and fire. Fed by the secondary explosions of those powered up ships who had not managed to raise their shields in time, the explosive force reached a level far beyond anything the shields had been designed to withstand.

Like miniature supernovas the remaining ships exploded, hurling debris and fire upwards so that from above it looked as if the entire shipyard complex was one giant contorted sea of flame. The blast wave continued to expand in every direction, destroying buildings, defensive installations, unfinished ships, totally destroying the shipyard.

The power of the inferno McKay had masterminded however did not end there. Not only did it continue to expand outwards until it had enveloped the other shipyard, where fresh explosions added to the blast, destroying the utterly the ass yet unfinished hangers meant to build the new dreadnaughts, but it went so far as to lap like the against the shimmering shield protecting the main replicator city.

Weapons systems ceased fire abruptly as even here all power was diverted desperately to the shield generators. For perhaps 3 seconds the blast wave continued to hurl itself against the gleaming shield of energy then the explosive forces subsided, leaving behind a wasteland of smoke, blackened earth and hundreds of large craters.

Far above, hidden from those on the ground by the enormous plume of smoke and debris hurled high into the atmosphere by the blast, a star seemed to shine suddenly, and then faded abruptly as the hyperspace window closed.

**End of Chapter 1 **Wow, ok 8k words. That's the biggest i've ever done. Hope you all liked it.  
Might be quite a while till the next update so you'll have to make do with this for a while **:)**

Now PLEASE REVIEW, press that little button!!


	6. Chapter 2a

**This c****hapter reuses large sections of dialogue from the actual Stargate Atlantis Episode "This Mortal Coil." While this is perhaps avoidable, I felt that the reaction of the actors, as expressed by the canon dialogue, was very appropriate. Also I feel that by expanding extensively on what was implied in this episode but not actually shown, I have demonstrated my ability for originality. Plus considering the entire second half of the chapter is completely non canon I don't think I can be accused of copying completely. Hope everyone enjoys!**

**The Others Ch****apter 2 part 1**

**City of Atlantis**

When the call came through on his radio, Lt Colonel John Sheppard was in the shower, hosing off after his customary morning run. Blindly he reached for the headset, eyes clamped tight shut to prevent shampoo from getting in them. Luckily at the second try he felt his hand close over the small plastic earpiece, and after trying to rinse most of the shampoo out of his hair, he fitted the radio into place.

"Sheppard here"

"Sorry to disturb you sir, Colonel Carter is requesting your presence in the control room as soon as possible"

"Understood, I'll be there in 10 minutes"

It was in fact closer to 15 minutes by the time that Sheppard, hair still damp and clad in a hastily pulled on pair of BDUs and jacket, hurried up the stairs into the gate room. As he climbed the stairs to the control room he paused for a brief moment to survey the active Stargate, the active gateshield and a large accompanying contingent of SFs, their weapons held ready.

Carter was standing in the middle of the control room, frowning slightly. Sheppard, catching the look, hurried to explain. "Sorry Sir, I'd just got in the shower when the call came through."

Carter's expression didn't change, but she greeted warmly enough. "Sheppard, I'm glad you're here, I've just had a rather curious radio conversation with Major Jordan on M34-277.

Sheppard looked at her, puzzled. "Curious sir"

"Yes, he reported that an unscheduled jumper landed near the gate about 30 minute ago. He also said that he felt it best for him to wait until you were present, before he gave any further details."

His C.O gazed at him with an inquiring look.

Sheppard was baffled.

He ran over in his head the short list of people who knew in the Pegasus Galaxy, other than them, that had access to ancient technology. Save for the replicators, who were unlikely to make social calls, the only other group he could think of were the travellers. But if this was some emissary from Larin or her people, why wouldn't Jordan have said so. It was most unlike the no-nonsense Major to be so cryptic.

He shook his head in confusion, unable to offer an explanation for this most curious situation.

Carter continued to frown. "Whoever it is, it's worrying that they know enough about us to come searching on New Athos. The place has been picked over enough by scavengers since the Athosians went missing, but we've deliberately kept a very low profile."

Sheppard nodded in agreement. Ever since the disappearance of Teyla's people, the Atlantis expedition had maintained a permanent presence on New Athos. It took the form of a small heavily camouflaged outpost in the hills overlooking the plateau where the village had stood, with surveillance systems watching the gate and surrounding area. The hope was that if any of the Athosians had survived, they would return to the planet they had left, and hopefully explain the cause for the tribe's sudden disappearance.

"Did Jordan say anything else?"

"Not much, he has the 'visitors' under guard. He did mention that you would be interested in talking to them though."

From the look she gave him, he guessed she was wondering what the hell was going on.

He was only just getting to know Samantha Carter, but on the whole he approved of her. She was no Weir, but all in all she was one of the better commanding officers he had served under. She was fair, willing to listen to her subordinates when making decisions and importantly, easily able to deal with the difficulties of being in charge of a mixed military and civilian base.

Several times in the last weeks, he had seen her easily deal with the usual squabbles between the civilian scientists and the military personnel on base, and do it with an efficiency he had to admit Elizabeth had lacked. Dr Weir had been an excellent leader of the Atlantis expedition in the three years she had been in charge of the city, but she and Carter's command styles differed in a number of areas.

Whereas Elizabeth had tended to favour the diplomatic approach when faced with a hostile situation, Carter, perhaps naturally considering her Air Force background, was more willing to accept that not all problems could be solved with diplomacy. Another aspect of her character that he had noticed was that she liked to be aware of as much of the facts as possible before making a decision. Once recently, when he had raised the matter with Rodney over lunch, the scientist had commented that he supposed it was due to her scientific background.

Whatever the reason, he knew her well by know to be able to tell she was as irritated as him at being kept in the dark, especially by a junior officer.

"Do we have video?" Sheppard asked, as the pair of them turned towards the large display screen at the rear of the control room. McKay was standing nearby, apparently monitoring the gate connection, but Sheppard guessed he was just being curious.

Carter nodded and gestured to Chuck. The gateroom tech hit tapped on a console and dropped the shield over the gate, the energy barrier winking out with a flash.

"Major Jordan, are you still there?" said Carter

The screen flickered momentarily, and then shifted to show the interior of a camouflaged tent and a tall man of clearly African American origin, wearing the insignia of a marine major.

"Yes Maam" Jordan visibly stiffened to attention

Sheppard stepped forward so that he was easily visible, "What's the situation, Major?"

Jordan paused for a moment, clearly considering how to answer that question. Then he said awkwardly, "Well, sir, there's someone here who would like to have a word with you."

Sheppard saw McKay gave a frown of confusion, as the three of them watched Jordan step sideways out of the camera's line of sight. And then someone else, wearing a face he had feared he would never see again, stepped in front of the camera.

Elizabeth Weir smiled at him, a sad smile. "Hello John."

* * *

**M34-277 New Athos****: 30 minutes later**

As the jumper exited the New Athos gate and headed north towards the Atlantis expedition's outpost, Sheppard was effectively flying on auto-pilot.

He kept replaying that conversation with this other Weir over and over in his mind. He couldn't quite take it in. For one brief moment he had thought it was really her, had thought they had found her, that she was safe. Her words still rang in his head,

"_I'm not Elizabeth. Well, not the Elizabeth __you__ knew. I have all of her memories and all of her thoughts – everything that makes her me. But I'm a duplicate, a copy_. _I was created by a faction of the Replicators as a means to attaining ascension._"

When he had stuttered a response, still in shock, she had smiled sadly, the damn same smile he remembered from so many bad times. If anything it had hurt worse than her previous words.

And then she had made it worse, or perhaps better, he still wasn't sure.

"_We need to meet. We have some information and other items that you can use against the Replicators."_

Carter had cut in then, asking the question he would have asked, if he hadn't already had a horrifying idea of what this woman meant.

"_You said 'we', what exactly do you mean by that?"_ Carter's voice had been hard, uncompromising, and he had caught the look of sudden anger Rodney had directed towards the blonde colonel.

The scientist had been very quiet the entire trip so far. Sheppard knew he should be worried about that, Rodney was only silent when something was badly wrong, but in truth Sheppard was too tied up trying to sort out his only feelings to deal with Rodney's just yet.

As the outpost came into sight ahead, he began to circle around, heading for a convenient clearing about 100 meters from the camouflaged cluster of tent. As they flew overhead, Sheppard couldn't help but admire the skill that had gone into making the outpost practically invisible from above. If Sheppard hadn't already known it was there, he doubted he would have seen it. Jordan certainly knew his business.

A figure in green BDU's directed him to an open space between two large trees, and before the rear ramp even had had time to fully lower; sheets of camo netting were being strung between the branches to hide the jumper's silhouette from above. _  
_

As the four of them exited the jumper, they were met by a heavily armed marine who saluted Sheppard, then reported that Major Jordan was in the command post. As they followed him towards the larger cluster of tents, they passed yet another heavily camouflaged jumper, presumably the one in which the visitors had arrived.

They found Jordan standing outside the flaps to one of the larger tents, looking distinctly concerned. The Major also saluted Sheppard, then with grimace gestured for them to enter.

As first Ronon, Teyla and then McKay ducked under the canvas, Jordan snatched the chance to have a brief conversation with his superior officer.

"I'm sorry sir; I didn't know what else to do. I've doubled the guards on duty, and prepared the base as best I could for a quick evacuation. Jordan shook his head in amazement. "It just plain weird sir, they act and sound, well just like you guys."

Sheppard nodded, understanding the major's confusion. "Well done Major, but if these three did escape from the replicators, then I also want you to shut down your generator and all nonessential systems. I don't want anyone to detect the power signature from orbit and get a target fix on our position. If anything bad happens, we'll head for the gate in the jumpers."

With that, he ducked unceremoniously through the flaps of the tent, and braced himself for what he knew he would see.

* * *

There were only 3 of them. Elizabeth, another Ronon and another McKay. Somehow that made him slightly more at ease. True it wouldn't have been the first time he came face to face with himself, not since he had got the crap beaten out of him by that evil nightmare version of himself, but that hadn't been him simply an alien creature using his form.

To actually come face with another version of himself, a Sheppard that if this Elizabeth was to be believed shared all his memories and thoughts, would have been very … odd."

As he walked up to join his team, who were standing in a rough line facing the three 'copies' he saw that true to form, both Ronons were surveying each other with suspicious expression.

"Well I suppose introductions aren't really necessary", said Weir in a tired voice.

"No, not so much, so um where's the rest of us, I mean you?" Said Sheppard in a stumbling voice.

"Our Sheppard and Teyla are still in orbit, looking after our ship." said Weir.

"Your ship?" inquired Sheppard curiously.

Weir gave a strained smile. "Yes, we stole one from the replicators."

She watched his eyes light up at that, and couldn't help but smile slightly at his excitement. There were times, she reflected for not the first time, when John Sheppard acted more like a big kid than a serious military commander. He was a lot like General O'Neill in that respect and she wondered if that was one of the reasons O'Neill had sponsored his promotion to Lt Colonel.

She sobered rapidly when she realized that yet again, the memories of Sheppard she possessed were not her own. Despite what her memories were telling her, she knew when she thought logically about it that this was in fact the first time she had met this man.

She watched the two Ronon sadly. For them it was perhaps worse, at least she was the only Elizabeth Weir. Not for the first time, she feared for their future. She didn't doubt that the original Sheppard, McKay and others would fight for their right to live their lives. Unfortunately, from her dealings with them, she knew the IOA would probably not be so willing. Still, she hoped that what they could bring to the table would serve them well when it came for a decision to be made about their eventual fates.

Sheppard's next question cut off her musings. "You said you've got something for us?" he asked her.

She nodded, "Rodney" she called. Both McKay's, who had up until that moment had been surveying their counterpart with a kind of fascination, looked up.

She grimaced, "No, my Rodney."

"Ohh right." Clicking his fingers, her McKay turned and walked to the back of the tent and after burrowing in his rucksack for a minute, returned holding the piece of hardware the Kellar look alike had given them. He held it up triumphantly, beaming at them.

"What is that?" Teyla spoke for the first time.

"This is the core drive of a Replicator ship tracking system. Once it is up and running, we'll be able to track every Aurora-class Replicator ship in the Pegasus galaxy." Repli-Mckay said beaming at her, tapping his finger's excitedly on the board. His counterpart across from him was looking at the core drive with a hungry look on his face.

Weir felt the need to explain. "We managed to hitch a lift on a replicator vessel to the replicator homeworld. When we arrived, we saw that they were building ships again. We managed to destroy a large number of them and the shipyards for something bigger, but they'll rebuild quickly, and they've still got a significant number of Aurora's across the galaxy, attacking human worlds. This will allow you to track them.

She shrugged. "It's not much, but it's a start, and we've got some more to offer."

The real McKay burst out "Are you kidding?! This is _huge_! We can get working on a ..."

Repli-McKay and McKay spoke simultaneously: "... modification programme ..."

Repli-McKay added "... uh, reconfigure the base sequencing ..."

McKay continued "... run it through one of the Ancient relays so the information's ..."

Repli-McKay and McKay spoke simultaneously again, "... automatically adapted and outputted."

Sheppard broke in, "_Outputted_? Is that even a word?"

McKay snorted, "Of course it is!"

Repli-McKay added swiftly, "We can't _both_ be wrong!"

Sheppard grimaced, and shot a "How could you do this to me" look at Weir, who was trying very hard to keep her face serious.

The original McKay spoke then. "Look Sheppard this is really seriously big, we should get started on this right away, especially if they're right and the replicators are building other ships. I mean we've only got 1 Zedpm, if the replicators manage to find Atlantis, then we're in trouble. With this we can track their movements in real time, and I don't have to tell you what a tactical advantage that would be. Better still they wouldn't know we were doing it!"

"Actually, we might be able to help there too Rodney." Said Weir calmly.

"What how?"

Repli-Mckay grinned at him. "We've got a Zedpm"

Enjoying the stunned look on his counterpart's face he couldn't help but add

"Well no we've got _two _actually, one of which is powering our ship until I get the reactors online"

"And you're telling us this now?"

"Well I was too busy I don't know admiring your jacket earlier."

"Oh, yes it's nice isn't it. We got new uniforms, better than the old one's actually they used too…"

"..bunch up under the arms." Yet again, the two McKays' had spoken simultaneously.

Sheppard gave a loud staged cough, which shut the two of them up. To be honest he was more than slightly freaked out by how easily the two McKays' were taking the whole 'copy' thing. He now spoke up about the thing that had really been hoping these copies of themselves might be able to give an answer too.

"Look we appreciate all this, we really do, but the truth is, we came here for another reason. You were with the Replicators. What do you know about our Elizabeth, and are you willing to help us get her back?

At these words, Weir's heart sank.

* * *

**Ronon POV**

Ronon sat perched on a sandbagged gun-emplacement, feeling the heat of the sun on his back through fabric of his jacket. To the untrained eye he would have seemed to be simply enjoying the sun, but he was in fact keeping a close eye on Sheppard and Elizabeth, who were seated on a log about a hundred paces away, deep on conversation.

He could guess only too easily what they were discussing. He had caught the despairing look on Weir's face when the real Sheppard had asked after the other Elizabeth. As he watched the pair rose and started to walk slowly into the forest. Ronon shifted on his sandbags, preparing to rise and follow them and once again caught the watchful glances of several marines.

Before they had left the ship, his Sheppard had taken Ronon aside and privately asked him to keep a close eye on Elizabeth. Obedient to his friend's wishes Ronon had stayed close to her, as much as he was able.

For all this other Sheppard's pleasant words of welcome and thanks, he knew that all of them were being closely watched.

A number of times earlier he had tried to move closer to Weir, and each time had caught the warning looks from the soldiers. They hadn't shown any open signs of aggression, but he could tell from the way they held themselves that if he made any sudden or hostile moves towards their commander, they would shoot first and ask questions later.

He assumed Major Jordan was behind it. Ever since Sheppard and Elizabeth had left the tent, a number of heavily armed marines had found ways to busy themselves nearby to the two of them. With a slight grin he watched one poor luckless marine start to strip and clean the parts of a nearby machine gun for the 7th time in 20 minutes. Out in the full heat of the midday sun, the man's face was bright red, his forehead bright with sweat, topless save for a t-shirt bearing the motif of some earth band. Yet his clearly loaded weapon was propped just nearby, and the man continued his task attentively, dismantling and oiling the parts he had cleaned several times already, but always keeping a close watch on Ronon's location.

After Weir and Sheppard had dipped below the level of the ridge on which the outpost was built, Ronon rose, and headed after them. A number of the Marines had already gone on ahead, slipping silently into the woods on either side of the two retreating figures, which were still deep in conversation. As Ronon passed the entrance to one of the few semi permanent cabins on the site, he saw a camouflaged figure seated on a bench just inside the door. As the marine lifted his head to watch Ronon's progress across the open space in front of him, Ronon recognized the man.

It was one of the Marines whom Ronon had tutored in close combat back on Atlantis. No, he recollected in anger, he hadn't, he had never even met this man before. He knew his name though, Staff Sergeant Guarnere, Bill Guarnere. The man, whom his men called 'Wild Bill' behind his back, was one of the most professional soldiers Ronon had ever met, and that meant something. When the Satedan had asked after the source of the nickname, he was told the sergeant had earnt it several years before, in a war on earth in a country called Iraq.

Reportedly the usually quiet sergeant had charged screaming with rage towards an enemy position that had opened fire and seriously wounded some of his men, despite having previously signaled its surrender.

By the time his men caught up with him, they found him amazingly completely unscathed, seated on a barrel cleaning his rifle, surrounded by the bodies of the men who had betrayed his trust. According to his men, the sergeant had refused to accept any decorations for the action, only replying when asked that he had been trying to protect his men.

While the two men had never really become friends, they had shared that sense of quiet approval that experienced soldiers often feel for others such men. Now though the sergeant's face was completely expressionless, only his eyes moved, while one hand was draped over an MP5 in his lap.

The sergeant continued to gaze at him, not bothering to return Ronon's nod of greeting. When after a few seconds the tall Satedan turned and strode angrily after Weir and Sheppard, he could still feel those brown eyes burning into his back.

Ronon was angry now, a sudden burning anger that made him clench his hands tightly by his sides as he walked. He hadn't really believed it, not until now, not until they got here. He knew he was Ronon Dex, so who was this other guy? Why should that man get to live Ronon's life, while he was treated as an outsider by people he had known for years?

Back at the camp, Guarnere tilted his head so the shadow from his cap fell on his watch face, allowing him to see the dial in the bright sunlight. When about a minute had gone by, he reached behind him into the shed and pulled out a vest, which he zipped on over his camo-jacket. Slinging his MP5's carrying strap over his shoulder, the sergeant gestured to a couple of nearby marines in similarly camouflaged uniforms. The group set off swiftly into the forest, shadowing Ronon.

* * *

Weir and Sheppard walked on slowly through the trees, neither one of them talking much, just thinking.

It was cool and fresh down here, away from the heat of the sun on the plateau. After a while Sheppard pulled up, not wanting to head too far away from the base. He stood staring at her, still trying to take in what she had said.

"You think this other Keller was telling the truth?" he asked finally.

Elizabeth shrugged "I don't know why she'd lie."

"It's kinda weird, that's all. I mean, I don't see you for all this time and then five minutes later I find out ..." Sheppard spoke unsteadily, and then his voice trailed off.

"... that I'm dead." She leant against a tree. "Yeah. Don't worry – the moment I learned the truth, I knew there'd be no going back the way things were – not for me, not for any of us." Weir's voice was calm, resigned.

Sheppard could find no answer to that. This woman was Elizabeth. Her voice, her looks, the way she spoke, hell even the tiniest little mannerism was Weir's. His mind knew he had never met this woman before today, but every instinct in his body was telling him he had. It was taking everything he had to stop himself pulling her into close hug, to definitely prove she was real.

Unable to think of anything else to say, he sat down on a convenient log, and tried to figure how to deal with this most disturbing situation.

From some distance away Ronon looked on watchfully, partially concealed behind the bulk of a tree, while all around them, completely unknown to Sheppard, heavily armed marines kept a close eye on their commander and these strangers.

**Command Bunker, Earth Outpost New Athos. **

Major Jordan sat a desk, listening to reports by radio from the sentries around the outpost. The majority of the outpost's electronics were powered down as a result of Col Sheppard's orders, and so the radar screens in the corner of the base were black, not displaying their usual scan of the airspace around the base.

Jordan agreed with Sheppard that the risk of any replicator vessel locking onto the power signature from the base's Naquida generator made it best to shut everything down, but he still was uneasy being so blind to events around him. He'd had sentries posted with binoculars in commanding positions around the base, but that was of limited value.

Leaning back in his chair, he enjoyed the pleasing flow of cool air from the electric fan, and tried his best to relax.

Sheppard's order was a valid precaution against discovery from orbit; unfortunately what he hadn't considered, was the possibility that the replicators already knew exactly where the outpost was. As Johnson sat in his chair, the Major was completely oblivious to what was happening tens of thousands of feet above his head. With a bright flash of light, two small ships dropped out of hyperspace into orbit of New Athos. Picking up the subspace signal that they had steadily been following for the last few hours, the ships followed the order's they had been given and brought their weapons systems online. If the Radar had been working, it might have detected two substantial blips descending rapidly down into the upper atmosphere of the planet.

* * *

**Cafeteria: New Athos**

On the far side of the base the original Ronon and Teyla were seated on chairs in the tent that served as the Marine's version of a cafeteria. The room wasn't particularly elaborate, a few sets of chairs with tables around them, a couple of electric fans and a water cooler, a ragged poster on the wall.

At present though it was empty save for them, which suited the pair fine. Unable to think of anything else to do, and unwilling to stay in the tent with the two McKay's as they loudly discussed the complexities of hooking up the tracking system to Atlantis's sensors; they had retreated here for a bit of peace.

Both of them sat hunched over the table, both more than a little disturbed by what they had just seen and heard. Teyla sat quietly, waiting for Ronon to say something. When she had heard the news from John, had heard that these 'copies' had turned up on New Athos, she hadn't known quite how to react.

To the Athosians, who considered a person's individuality to be their greatest possession, the concept of such a thing was deeply disturbing. Among the traditions of her people, was a millennia old belief in each individual's ability to cast loose their earthly body and become something more, something greater. In the last few years, Teyla had come to understand that such an idea must have somehow originated from ancestors, perhaps spread to her people by some of the surviving Lantians, after the fall of their civilization ten thousand years ago. While Teyla had never believed in such a thing as ascension until she had seen it with her own eyes, she had always held great faith in the wisdom of the traditions of her people. She believed such faith was one at least partly responsible for the survival of the Athosians as a people over millennia of culling.

It was not something she would ever attempt to explain to her colleagues on Atlantis, for she knew that while most would be respectful of her own private beliefs, they would never truly understand. This news of her copy made Teyla feel wrong somehow, unclean at some deep spiritual level. She could only thank her luck that her duplicate had not been present when the others had first come face to face with their copies. While she knew that it was unlikely she would be able to avoid meeting this other her at some point, Teyla could only hope it would not be any time soon.

As she sat there, lost deep in thought, Ronon surveyed her, more to take his mind of his own troubled thoughts than for any other reason. Teyla had always been "deep," as Sheppard called it. Many a time she had impressed him with her deeper understanding of the motivations of the people they had met on their travels through the Stargate. Teyla possessed a sense of calm and quiet authority that made it easy to understand why she had been chosen as leader of her people. Often he found her hard to read, she gave so little away about her true feelings, but right now he could tell exactly what she was thinking. He knew because it was the same thing he was wondering himself.

He had a few moments earlier decided to speak his mind, if only to hear his companions take on the situation. And so he leant back in his chair, and locked his eyes on Teyla's, waiting for her to look up.

When at last she met his gaze, his expression quizzical, he spoke.

"I don't like him." He said, presumably referring to the other Ronon.

Teyla gave a sigh, "I know, it's odd" she said. 'Odd' she thought, that one word really didn't do the situation justice.

Ronon grunted agreement, "I know I'm me, so who the hell's this other guy?"

"He's you as well."

" No, there's only one me." If it were not for the gravity of the situation, and because she knew Ronon would not appreciate it, Teyla might have laughed at that.

"Apparently not." She said tiredly, with no trace of the slight spark of humor she had just felt in her voice.

"He's nothing but a copy, then."

Teyla ran a hand through her hair, clearly stressed." From what I understand, even though he's not the original, he's as much Ronon Dex as you are."

Ronon appeared to consider this for a moment and then spoke again, "I don't like him!" he grunted once more.

Teyla was just opening her mouth to ask a question that had just occurred to her, when there was a deafening explosion and the ground shook violently beneath her feet.

The two of them were thrown bodily across the room by the force of the blast, to land heavily on the unyielding ground. In the milliseconds before it happened, Teyla saw the thick base of the water cooler come rushing up to meet her and then everything went black.

* * *

Sheppard turned his head sharply at the sound. The dull thump of an explosion echoed slightly in the confined acoustics of the wood and then died away. Sheppard was already keying his radio when it burst loudly into life.

"_All positions all positions, code blue I repeat code blue, prepare to receive incoming hostile craft." Colonel Sheppard this is Jordan, we've got Fizzzzzz._

The radio went dead suddenly, Jordan's voice cut off in loud hissing of static. From the direction of the outpost came another explosion.

Before Sheppard had the chance to try raise the outpost again on his radio he heard rustling noises in the bush all around him. Next thing he knew, he was surrounded by 12 heavily armed marines, weapons held ready as they scanned the surroundings warily.

Relieved to have company, but at the same time irritated that he had heard no sign of their presence Sheppard keyed his radio "_Major Jordan report, this is Sheppard, what's happening over there?"_

A panicked voice that was definitely not Jordan's came back over the airwaves. "_Sir, Major Jordan's dead, whatever the hell just hit us took out the command bunker, the Major's gone, the captain's probably gone too." _

"_Calm down sailor, take a deep breath. Identify yourself to the officer." _From beside him Sheppard heard another deeper voice, obviously speaking to the panicked marine on the other end of the radio.

He turned and caught sight of Guarnere speaking into his radio, one of the marines who had originally arrived with Colonel Everett a few years ago. At Jordan's request the staff sergeant had been added to the Major's team following the death of most of his squad during the original wraith attempt to take the city, and there Guarnere had stayed ever since. Guarnere nodded respectfully to Sheppard, then fell silent.

"_This is private Reynolds sir," _The voice was slightly calmer now. "_Sir, something just flew right out of the sky and hit the command bunker. I saw it before it hit, it was glowing yellow sir, it looked like sort of missile sir, only I couldn't see any smoke."_

Sheppard swore under his breath, he knew what that meant.

"_Private, can you see any ships overhead, any sign of a jumper, anything?" _asked Sheppard nervously

As Sheppard waited patiently for the man to report back, Guarnere spoke quietly to him. "Sorry about that sir, just felt he needed calming down. Reynolds is one of the new kids, only just transferred in last month. A bit green, but he's bright enough." Sheppard nodded in thanks, respecting the wisdom in the NCO's actions.

There were suddenly a number of clicks as the marines eased off on safety catches at the sounds of somebody approaching. A moment later, Ronon burst out of the woods at a run, gun held ready. He sensibly froze immediately he caught sight of the weapons pointed his way. Sheppard gestured for the marines to lower their weapons, and the Satedan slipped between the ring of encircling marines, ending up close by Elizabeth's side.

"_No sign of anything yet sir, wait hold on, there's a strange noise coming from above the camp sir, a sort of humming noise, but I can't see anything."_

Sheppard could hear a similar noise now too, he recognized that sound, it was the sound of engines, like those of a jumper, only louder. And that meant…

"_Private, there's a cloaked ship hovering over the outpost, it's obviously made your position. We're heading back now, but I want you to find the next most senior marine and tell him to get ready to evac with the jumpers. Make sure you get all the wounded safe, and for god sake be careful, if the replicators are here then they'll probably start firing drones at the base again the moment you start moving._

"_And if I can't find anyone more senior?"_ The panic was back in Reynold's voice now.

"_Then it's your job Marine, get your people into the cover of the woods, we'll be there soon, Sheppard out" _

* * *

Without waiting for orders the group of them set of at a run toward the outpost, and as they ran they heard the dull crump of further detonations.

As the group neared the tree line on Guarnere's orders the marines spread out into a wider formation, so as not to present such a tempting target to anyone firing drones down upon them.

Sheppard skidded to a halt into a shallow gulley, dotted with young trees that ran around the south side of the base. It was the last stretch of cover before the open ground beyond, open space that had ironically been carefully cleared to present a killing ground around this side of the base.

He was breathing hard, sweating heavily in the summer heat of midday as the others slid to a halt beside him. Raising his head over the lip of the ditch, he snatched a brief look upwards, then ducked down again.

Above them, perhaps 100 meters off the ground, hung the grey bulk of a ship, still steadily raining down fire on the outpost below. Its Lantian design, along with the drones it was firing, didn't leave any doubt about who it belonged too.

"Replicators", he said with a note of disgust.

"They must have managed to track the ship," said weir, sounding distressed.

Sheppard struck by another worried thought, triggered his radio again. "_Ronon Teyla, do you read me_."

No answer

"_Ronon Teyla please respond, are you guys ok?"_

Still there was no answer. Trying desperately to put his worries for his friends to the back of his mind, Sheppard motioned for Guarnere to draw near. The sergeant, bent low to keep below the lip of the ditch, hurried over to him.

Thinking quickly, Sheppard issued his orders. "Ok, here's what we'll do. The jumpers are in the woods on the far side of the base. If we try to make it to the gate on foot they'll pick us off easily. We're going to keep low, and use this ditch to stay under cover while we circle around to the other side, try meet up with the others. Ronon stay with Elizabeth, Guarnere you take point with me and have the rest of your men follow on behind."

The sergeant nodded, and began to quietly pass the plan onto his men. Sheppard spoke into his radio again. "_Reynolds, this is Sheppard, what's your position over?"_

_We're in the wood's colonel, as many as I could find, but there's only 11 of us. We've got about 5 wounded, only 1 seriously. Corporal Mason is in charge sir, but he's over by the jumpers right now, and he's not got a radio on him."_

"_Very well, tell the corporal that we'll be over there in a sec, we're on the other side of the clearing from the base. Tell him we'll be using the ditch for cover as we circle round, so he better not start shooting at us."_

"_Understood sir, see you in a moment then."_

As Reynolds signed off, he caught the somber expression on Guarnere's face. There had been about 30 marines on the base compliment. Assuming that the 11 mentioned by Reynolds included both McKays, Ronon and Teyla, then at least 11 marines were dead, including the two senior officers.

Sheppard did not comment. It would have served no purpose. Right now his priority was to save as many of the survivors as possible, including himself.

With Guarnere at his side, he set off at a run along the ditch, bending low to keep hidden and to prevent low branches snatching at his cap.

* * *

When a couple of minutes later their group reached the jumpers, they found 12 people hunched down trying to stay under cover. The area was quiet; presumably at some distance from the outpost it had escaped fire from the replicator ship.

Then to Sheppard's dismay, he saw that one of the jumpers was a wreck of twisted metal, its hull scorched and littered with singed scraps of camouflage netting. He saw the wreck was the same jumper the copies had arrived in, presumably the first thing the replicators had targeted.

Both Mckays were huddled against a tree stump, easy to tell apart by their different uniforms. His Rodney was clutching the core drive to his chest, his eyes wide. The other in the older jacket was surveying the ruined jumper mournfully. He looked up as Sheppard and Weir approached his expression grim.

"It must have had a hidden sub-space transponder" he said, sounding angry, presumably for not suspecting such a thing.

"It must have somehow been placed aboard all the ships on the fake Atlantis so that Oberoth and the other could track any escaping rebels. They must have had a spy amongst the rebels, which would explain how they managed to find them."

"Then why didn't they activate it". Weir said. "Why didn't they detect the signal when we arrived in orbit of Asuras? Why didn't they destroy us before we even landed?"

McKay shrugged. "I can only guess they thought nobody had escaped, that they'd dealt with all the rebels. When the shipyard was destroyed, they must have sent an activation signal to the transponder. We led them right here."

Sheppard filled in the gaps, So, they knew already knew exactly where the base was and we couldn't see them because I'd ordered the radar shut down. He swore softly. "So the first thing they did was target the jumper, to cut off our escape. That was the first explosion; they've probably got a ship covering the gate as well."

"But they didn't destroy the other jumper sir, why not?" said Reynolds, who was standing nearby.

Sheppard grimaced again, "I don't know, but there's no way we can get everybody onboard one jumper, even if the ship could take it, there's no room. And if we stay here too long, they come back and start shooting.

Guarnere swore profusely. It was a colorful collection of insults and languages, some of which Sheppard recognized as Kurdish/Arabic and even a few he had never heard of. Sheppard felt like joining him, but knew it wouldn't help much.

It was his job as an officer to make decisions, to deal with situations like this. Unfortunately, as he and Guarnere both knew, there wasn't a simple bloody solution to this problem.

Someone would have to stay behind and make a run for it, on foot.

End of chapter 2 part a


	7. Chapter 2b

**Once again, Farscape and Stargate Atlantis are the property and copyright of their creators etc etc. I don't intend to steal characters or profit in any financial manner from this story, simply to enjoy myself blowing stuff up and getting good reviews!**

**The Others Chapter 2 part 2**

**Undesignated System, Asteroid belt. **

Among the slowly tumbling rocks of an asteroid field, that hung in orbit around a shattered moon, floating in an elliptical orbit of a gas giant, a small dark shape floated. The planet, the 6th in a system of 7, of which the third was New Athos, was a small ball of freezing gases. The ship was dark, its shields lowered, its engine's powered down. From time to time, any scanning vessel would have picked up minute energy spikes, as the ship was forced to maneuver to avoid collision.

The space around the planet however, was completely empty of any other vessels.

Seated in the command chair on the bridge, Sheppard was starting to feel the strain. Normally the interfaces built into the chair amplified his mental commands to beyond human speed, allowing him to control the dreadnaught's many systems with an ease that, to anyone not familiar with Lantian technology would have seemed astonishing. Right now however, with the ship's engine systems powered as far as he dared in an effort to avoid detection, things were decidedly trickier.

As he once again franticly shunted power to the engines, diving to avoid collision with an enormous mass of cratered rock, he winced as the sensors recorded how close it had come to the outer hull. If the shields had been active they would 'probably' have protected the hull, but he did not dare raise power levels enough to bring them online. While Weir and the others were away, he needed to keep the dreadnaught out of sight. The theory was, with power levels at minimum and the ship concealed inside the asteroid belt the other side of the system from New Athos, no replicator vessels entering the system in search along the route of their hyperspace trajectory would detect any signs of their presence.

That was the theory anyway, but the "keeping the ship concealed inside an asteroid belt" part was proving harder than he had anticipated! Keeping out of sight was one thing, but he did not think even the dreadnaught's armored hide could withstand a glancing impact from one these floating pieces of rock.

From the look on his companion's face, she wasn't feeling too happy with the situation either! Teyla hadn't said much since the others had left, but the manner in which she was clutching the arms of her chair was quite suggestive.

It had been nearly an hour since McKay had piloted the jumper out of the bay, and he had watched it on the sensors head somewhat unsteadily down towards the planet. Since then they had sat here in the asteroid belt, trying to avoid every few minutes or so being turned into scrap metal and using the ship's passive sensors to keep an eye on the space outside the asteroid belt.

After another particularly hair raising-near miss, Teyla seemed at last to find her voice.

"John, how long do you think we will have to remain here?"

"Why, don't you find this fun?" he said, boosting the engines again to rise the ship over the top of a particularly jagged piece of rock!

"No, not particularly. In fact, I'm feeling quite…"

"Scared! Yep, I'm starting to feel more than a little concerned myself."

"So, do you think we'll have to stay here much further?"

"I'm not sure, I told McKay to contact us with the jumper's comm system once he had … hello!"

"What, what is it John?"

As Teyla watched, she saw John's hands start to manipulate the crystals on the armrests of the chair"

"Not sure, the passive sensors just picked up on something, hold on, I'm going to try boosting power to the system"

In front of him a holographic screen flashed into existence, showing what appeared to be a map of the system, being crossed by flowing streams of ancient text. It meant nothing to Teyla, but apparently it did to John, for glancing back at him, she saw his face harden.

"What?"

"The sensors just picked up a hyperspace window, over New Athos."

"Replicators? Are you picking up any more information?"

He shook his head, his eyes vacant, clearly concentrating on his connection with the ship. "It doesn't work like that, with just passive sensors at this range I'm only picking up the energy reading from the hyperspace window, nothing more."

"Can you use the active sensors?"

"No, if it is the replicators, then they'd detect the scans and know we're here."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Well." He said slowly "I thought we'd go and have a look" As he spoke Teyla saw the view outside shift, as the dreadnaught's bow rose rapidly upwards, and the ship accelerated out of the field. As the ship drew clear of the field, the space visible through the windows in front of them split open in the blue vortex of a hyperspace window, and the dreadnaught sped into it.

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**New Athos**, **Woodland South of the Base.**

"_Teyla, Ronan_" shouted Sheppard, hurrying towards the muffled shape of two figures heading through the smoke towards them. The thick smoke was an added complication he could have done without, but it seemed that the replicator's drones had set fire to some of the woodland and so a carpet of grey smoke was starting to drift southwards.

As he drew near to the two shapes, the wind sent a tendril of it curling towards him. Coughing slightly, he hurried on, and soon caught sight of a rather battered Ronon supporting a semi-conscious Teyla. He saw with deep concern that Teyla's head was covered in a blood and her eyes were closed. Ronon was also bleeding, but it looked less serious, although the deep cut on his cheek looked quite nasty.

"What happened" he coughed as he grabbed hold of Teyla and helped Ronon carry her over to the rest of the party.

"There was an explosion, she hit her head hard."

Weir hurried over, and helped them lower Teyla's battered form onto the grass. Balling up her jacket and placing it under the Athosian's head, she reached over to grab a med kit.

Signaling to a nearby marine with a medic's insignia on his arm, John watched concerned as the man swabbed at the blood, revealing a deep gash. "How bad is it?"

"Looks pretty deep sir, it'll need stitches, and she's probably got a pretty nasty concussion. All I can do here is clean the wound, stitch it up and give her a shot of painkillers. If we can get her back to Atlantis we should be alright."

He nodded, and touched Ronon on the arm. "Hey, you ok?"

"I've been better."

"You should probably get that cut looked at"

"I'll be ok."

Sheppard didn't push the matter.

"What's your plan?" Ronon asked.

"Right now, not much of one, we've got one or more replicator warships flying overhead, shooting drones down at us, with nearly 30 of us, and only one intact jumper!"

Sheppard saw Ronon glance at where the jumpers rested, saw his eyes take in the mangled ruin of the copies' craft.

"Oh"

"Yeh."

Sheppard left him there, seated anxiously beside the wounded Teyla, while he went to try solve the problem. Feeling his way around the edge of the surviving jumper, which he had cloaked to try avoid it being also destroyed, he found the hatch at the rear and walked inside. Both Mckays were in the forward section, doing something with the controls.

"Hey can you McKays we contact the other me, you know the one in the ship you stole and try get some help here?"

They both shook their heads. "We've tried, but the replicators are jamming our signals, we've been trying to boost the signal but the jammers on those things must be pretty strong, we've not had any reply," said the new McKay. "Oh and if we aren't careful the replicators will trace the source of the transmissions and blow this ship to bits, with us in it," added his Rodney.

"Right well, keep at it see what you can do, but be careful"

"You know us, we're always careful."

"Yeh, right!" he said sarcastically as he was on the way back out.

The two McKays exchanged looks of combined exasperation and hurt, and then bent over the consoles again.

He surveyed the group of area, taking in the 6 wounded, including Teyla, currently being tended to by their two medics and the rest of the marines, Elizabeth and both Ronons. Twenty eight people, including himself and the two Mckays, about 10 too many to fit in the jumper.

As he stood there, weighing the odds, he made up his mind.

"OK GATHER ROUND PEOPLE" he shouted over the noise of the fire. As they came to stand in a rough semi circle around him, he laid out the situation.

"Ok we don't have much time! The replicators are going to figure out soon where we've gone if they haven't already. Now, as some of you've already probably worked out, there's too many of us to fit in one ship"

He paused slightly, letting them know something nasty was coming next!

"So, unless any of you have any better ideas … I plan to load the wounded, the civilians and the least fit of the marines into the jumper, while the rest of us try make it for the gate on foot."

"If we're lucky, we'll be able to circle round and get to the gate. If not well, at least with the replicators concentrating on us, the jumper should make it through! Any questions?"

Guarnere raised his hand slightly

Yes Sergeant?

"Who's going to pilot the jumper Colonel?"

Sheppard saw where this was going and replied quickly to try quash it! "No Sergeant I'll not be flying the jumper, I'm coming with you guys."

"Beg pardon sir, but I've already lost a senior officer today, I don't want to be responsible for the death of another! You're more important to Atlantis than us sir."

"My life isn't worth more than any one of yours here!"

"No sir, but you're survival is more important to our success in this galaxy than any of ours. I respect your offer sir, but personally I think you're a damn idiot."

As Sheppard bristled slightly at this insult from an NCO, made even more irritating because Guarnere was perfectly right, the young private Reynolds spoke up.

"Sir, you're the best pilot we've got! If the wounded and the civies have any chance of getting away it's with you flying the ship." The young marine still sounded scared, but he spoke with conviction.

In the circle around him Sheppard saw heads nodding in agreement.

He glanced at the faces of the surviving marines. While a number of the younger men looked quite nervous, they were equal with the older ones in the determination on their faces. These men were not going to back down on this, and he knew it!

He grimaced, and then gave way. "Ok, I'll pilot the jumper, but Sergeant Guarnere, as soon as you get back, report to my office with some of that stash of Jack Daniels I'm not supposed to know about ok. Then we'll have a proper discussion about this matter!"

Guarnere nodded expressionlessly "Of course sir, I look forward to it." Then he turned and shouted at his surviving men.

"Ok Marines, let's get the wounded into the jumper double time, replicators aren't gonna wait people!"

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Guarnere eased through the undergrowth, his weapon held ready; though what good it would do against a replicator he wasn't certain.

Behind him and on either side he could hear the other 13 marines, their footsteps stealthy, as if that would prevent them from showing up on the sensors of the hostile ships overhead.

They had circled the wooded bluff on which the outpost had stood, keeping deep in the bush, moving fast until they neared the tree line.

Guarnere sank to one knee, and shuffled forwards until he had a line of sight, pulling loose a miniature combat scope from his webbing. He placed the tiny telescope to one eye and surveyed the open expanse of grass before him! They were at the head of a long valley, half way along which were the scavenged huts of the Athosian village. The Stargate stood in another clearing, a half a click inside the woods at the far end of the valley. All in all, he judged the distance to be a good 6 or 7 km.

He shifted the scope upwards and grimaced. Hovering about 100 meters in the air, flanking the patch of trees where the Stargate was situated, were a pair of replicator warships, identical to the one he had seen earlier. The bright sunlight glinted on the bright metal of their hulls, but there was nothing beautiful about them. They looked utterly businesslike to him, their geometrical hulls making no attempt to hide their true purpose.

Using his free hand, he triggered his radio, keeping his eyes locked on the two ships in case they should decide to suddenly shift position. _"Colonel, this is Guarnere" _he radioed.

There was a brief pause and then "_Roger that Sergeant, how's it look?"_

"_Not so good sir, there's two of them, their just sitting covering the gate; bastards seem to be just waiting for us to try make it through."_

"_You do realize they've probably got shields Sergeant! Are you sure about this?"_

"_Just get yourself and the wounded back to Atlantis sir, we'll be right behind you!"_

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There was an audible click from the speaker of Sheppard's radio as Guarnere signed off. Without a word Sheppard began lift off, hearing the engines hum louder than usual as they took the strain. There were 14 people aboard, and he hadn't dared squeeze in any more. The pilot's compartment was uncomfortably full, for the rear section was taken up by the 4 stretcher cases and the two medics.

As the jumper rose above the line of the tree tops, Sheppard silently prayed that none of the replicator's sensors could detect them through the cloak. Once the jumper was about 100 meters off the ground, he accelerated forward on a heading at right angles from the direction of the gate. His plan, such as it was, was to approach the gate from the west, after the marines had hopefully drawn the replicator ships away from it with their attack.

He checked his watch with a quick glance, noting there were still had over 6 minutes before the marines fired everything they had, and by then he needed to be in position.

He dared not use the jumper's sensors, in case the replicators detected the scans and realized there was a cloaked ship in the vicinity. A large hill force him to pull the jumper into a climb, it's engines whining dangerously as the craft rose, more sluggishly than normal. As the ship cleared the summit, he dropped the jumper into the narrow valley on the other side, which led roughly north south. Keeping a good distance from the rock walls, he sped the jumper southwards, flying uncomfortably low to the ground for his passengers' minds.

**Orbit of New Athos, 5 minutes later!**

With a slight shudder, the dreadnaught dropped back into normal space, the hyperspace window flashing shut behind it. Sheppard at first had been rather uncertain whether to drop out of hyperspace so close to the planet, fearing that do so would leave them exposed to a surprise attack. In the end however, he had reasoned it was better to take the risk, especially considering the threat the replicators posed to his defenseless friends on the planet below. If there were replicator ships in the system, he was best equipped to defend his people against them.

The planet's surface stretched out below them in a sea of green and blue, the atmosphere occasionally dotted with the strings of weather formations. As Sheppard maneuvered the ship into a high orbit however, the beauty of the moment was spoiled by the beeping of a console. Sheppard saw the problem immediately; two small ships were hovering just above the surface of the planet.

Not only did the sensor returns of their power signatures clearly show them to be replicators, which was bad enough, but they were also holding position very near to the location of the Atlantis outpost.

Teyla instinctively grabbed hold of a console, as the view through the windows rolled through almost 180˚. She needn't have bothered, for the ships artificial gravity systems meant that physically she didn't notice a thing. To suddenly appear (relatively speaking) to be standing on the ceiling however was still decidedly unsettling.

What happened next was impressive to say the least. From the launch systems set in the hull forward of the bridge, a bright stream of bright yellow lights emerged, picking up speed steadily as they accelerated away from the ship. Sheppard had rolled the dreadnaught deliberately, orientating the dreadnaught's serried drone launchers towards his targets on planet. Now the salvo of drone weapons shot at ever increasing speed down towards the planet's surface, though of course relative to Teyla they appeared to be firing directly upwards instead. As they weapons entered the upper atmosphere they were lost from sight, descending through a layer of thick cloud, but guided by the powerful sensors of the dreadnaught and their own onboard systems, they continued unerringly towards their targets.

The first Guarnere knew of the arrival of help, was when a marine spotted a series of bright lights in the sky above. Shouting the man raised his arm to point, and Guarnere, following his gaze was just in time to see the drones plummet the last hundred meters or so before they hit their targets. Both ships were noticeably gaining height when they seemed to stagger, their shields rippling with light as the dreadnaught's drone salvo ripped away at them.

The strain was too much for one of the Asuran frigates. Targeted by well over half of Sheppard's opening salvo, its shields failed spectacularly. The drones that had not yet exploded while attempting to penetrate the shields phased through the now unprotected hull, to explode with devastating effects at the vessels heart. Even over a mile away, Guarnere was forced to clutch at a stout branch as the shockwave from the explosion of the frigate's reactors tore through the woodland. When he opened his eyes again, just one frigate was still in the sky above him, trying desperately to gain altitude.

With a cry of joy at their unexpected salvation, the Sergeant snatched the nearest SAM launcher and after hearing the tone that signaled a lock on, triggered the missile at the retreating frigate. All around him his Marines had also opened fire, the previously clear sky being torn with the passage of tracer rounds and the smoke trails of missiles. While he knew the bullets would do nothing, Guarnere didn't have the heart to tell his men to stop firing. They were finally able to fight back, to express their bitter hatred at those responsible for the death of their friends.

It was with deep satisfaction therefore that Guarnere saw his missile impact with a bright flash on the shields of the replicator ship. As the sound of the explosion reached him, he saw to his amazement the shields around the ship, which previously had been glowing brightly, wink out! He could only guess that the first volley had depleted the shields to such a low strength that even a SAM would breach them. Another missile reached the frigate and exploded, this time against the hull armor, leaving a ragged and blackened hole once the smoke cleared.

The audible rumble of the frigate's engines increased significantly, the engine manifolds glowing brighter. Slowly but steadily, it began to pick up speed, drawing out of range of the Marine's puny firepower, concentrating on the greater threat from above. The replicator ship now finally opened fire, but to little effect. It possessed only limited drone launching systems, well, limited in relation to the dreadnaught anyway. A lone frigate by itself was a serious threat to anything smaller than an Aurora. It may not have been able to launch the massed volleys of its bigger cousins, but it could still pack a mean punch for its size. The devastating power of its drones meant that it could and had taken on ships as large as a wraith cruiser, causing immense damage with just a dozen or so drones in each volley, while protected by its strong shielding. In a group of five or six, frigates had even been known to take on an unaccompanied wraith hive ship with some success.

Unfortunately for this particular frigate and its companion, unlike the wraith, the dreadnaught possessed stronger shields and drones of its own, thousands of them. Worse still for the frigate, it was already damaged, having been hit hard by the few drones that hadn't targeted its companion. Now as it pointed its bow towards the upper atmosphere, another volley of drones came screaming down from far above.

The few drones it had managed to launch were intercepted and picked off by counter fire, exploding in a sudden wall of flame several miles into the atmosphere, miles from their target.

The remainder of the volley, which had ignored the oncoming fire, struck the frigate on its now unprotected hull. Instead of phasing into the hull, these drones simply exploded on impact. Thus the replicators on board were saved the devastating explosion from a reactor breach, at least for a little while. The front half of the ship vanished in a sea of fire, along with one of the engine pods. Heavily damaged, the port engine pod strained for a few seconds to support the ship on its own, and then died completely. The remaining half of the frigate plummeted towards the ground, trailing smoke and debris, to disappear behind the crest of a hill a mile south of the gate. The audible "crunch" of the impact was immediately followed by another blinding flash of light as the frigates reactor went critical.

After a moment of awed silence, a corporal by Guarnere let out a cry of triumph, waving the smoking tube of his SAM launcher in the air like a man possessed.

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Save for the hum of the engines, there was little sound, the quiet broken only by an occasional moan of pain from the wounded in the rear compartment. There hadn't been much talk, save for some swearing, since Sheppard had swung the ship around a hill just in time to see the second frigate get swatted from the sky by massed drone fire.

They had been much closer to the site of the crash than Guarnere and his men, dangerously close. A very convenient spur of rock had shielded them from much of the blast, but the jumper had still rocked dangerously in the shockwave, coming within inches of the ground. With the engines screaming in protest, Sheppard, wrestling with the controls, had managed to halt their descent just in time. Still there had been a nasty sound, and the jumper had shaken momentarily before he had regained full control.

Now they were heading for the gate, preparing to unload the wounded and send them through to Atlantis. The other "him" had radioed to check on his team, checking everyone was ok. It had been slightly surreal to hear his own voice coming from the radio, but not so weird as talking to himself had been. This other Sheppard had warned that they shouldn't stay long. Even when he had heard of the destruction of the bugged jumper, he had insisted that they should still leave the system as soon as possible. John had agreed, even with the subspace transponder gone, the replicators clearly knew where they were. He had no desire to be being around when a fleet of Aurora's turned up in orbit. He had also agreed to ferry the copies back to their ship, now that their jumper was destroyed.

He had fewer doubts now. If this was some sort of trick, it was a damn clever one. Plus assuming these copies were telling the truth, the replicators weren't exactly flush in ships right now! That they would sacrifice two valuable frigates pointlessly, simply to make a point seemed quite unlikely to him. If these copies were lying, they had to know they wouldn't simply be welcomed with open arms.

Despite his increasing trust for these copies, he still had no intention of taking them to Atlantis. The coordinates of Atlantis's new home were probably the most valuable piece of information in the galaxy right now. Plus with only 1 ZPM, they had no chance of moving the city again. The news that these copies were in possession of two ZPM was heartening, for if they gave up even one then Atlantis's defences would be significantly strengthened. Plus the addition of a fully operational and clearly powerful Lantian ship, in combination with an ability to track the Replicators ships in real time, gave the Atlantis expedition a far greater chance of success.

Even if he had intended too, the other McKay had pronounced that going anywhere near the city was a very bad idea until the ship had been fully searched for any more hidden transmitters. He had to agree with the wisdom in that idea as well. If the replicators had a means of tracking the auroras, then no doubt this stolen ship possessed something similar. When asked by Ronon why he had not searched before coming to New Athos, the other McKay had replied testily that he had already deactivated the main tracking systems, but he wouldn't put it past the Replicators to have some sort of backup.

Sheppard had to admit, at present he hadn't thought much beyond what he was going to tell Carter. He was certain she wouldn't think it safe to bring the copies to Atlantis either, but he guessed she might be prepared to devote some of their limited resources to setting up another outpost on a deserted planet, if it brought them an ability to track the replicators. As for the copies futures, he really couldn't say. In truth, the whole thing gave him a nasty feeling. He couldn't help but imagine how he would feel in their shoes, how Elizabeth must feel?

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind for not the first time that day, he concentrated on the delicate business of landing the overloaded jumper next to the Stargate. The brief impact with the rock earlier didn't appear to have done any damage, but ever since he had kept a very close eye on the data from the port flight pod. A few times the response from the engine had seemed to be slightly sluggish, especially when he pushed the engine to near full power.

For this reason he was even more careful now on landing, taking longer than he would normally to check everything was working, before he lowered the jumper from where it was hovering onto the ground. Everything worked as it should, and with some relief he felt the jumper settle onto the ground, its engines powering down. As the ramp began to lower, he ordered the jumper's system to run a maintenance program, a diagnostic designed to check every one of the critical systems for errors or faults. It would take a few minutes, but he judged it would take that long to unload the wounded and get them and the marines through the gate. He also intended to have a good look at the port side of the jumper, in case the cause of the problem was only minor.

The jumper emptied rapidly, the marines carrying the wounded carefully out of the rear of the jumper and onto the soft grass by the gate. He saw both Ronons helping to carry Teyla, their mutual animosity seemingly forgotten as they helped gently lower her onto the grass. Both of them wore equal looks of concern, and as he hurried over, Sheppard could have sworn he saw the other Ronon look momentarily at Teyla's arm.

Her face was quite pale, her breathing slow. She had a thick bandage around her forehead, covering the deep gash he had seen earlier. She was barely conscious, but she grasped his hand as he bent over her. He forced a smile. "It's ok Teyla, we'll have you back in Atlantis in just a bit."

He felt her squeeze his hand, but she didn't say anything. He left the two Ronons to keep an eye on her, and hurriedly began to dial the gate. As the Kawoosh died away, he hurriedly began to talk on the radio, ordering the control room staff to have medical teams ready immediately.

Before he had finished speaking, he heard Carter's voice.

"_Colonel, sitrep, what's happened"_

"_The outpost was attacked by Replicators sir, Major Jordan and the other officers are dead, we've got several wounded marines and Teyla's taken a nasty blow to the head. I'd like to send the wounded and the civilians through immediately. _

There was a few seconds silence, in which he could hear Carter paging Dr Kellar to the gateroom, and then his C.O spoke again.

"_Agreed, transmit your IDC and send them through now." _As the marines started to carry the wounded up the stair and through the gate, Carter continued speaking. "_What of the replicators Colonel? How did they know where to come?"_

He caught the unspoken meaning in her words. "_The replicator ships were destroyed Sir, the other Sheppard's ship caught them in the atmosphere and destroyed them. Unknown to them, the jumper they used to land had a hidden tracking device onboard; the replicators simply followed the signal. The tracking device has been destroyed, but both I and my counterpart think it's a bad idea to stay here any longer. He seems to think there could be more ships on the way, they could easily be on their way right now Sir."_

Another pause and then _"What do you suggest Sheppard?"_

"_Sir, my counterpart has already requested that I ferry the other copies back up to the ship, since their jumper's been destroyed. I suggest that we go aboard and take the ship to the nearest planet with a Stargate or Spacegate. Once there I'll dial in again and we can take things from there. Colonel, they've got this "core-drive" which the McKay's say we can use to track the replicator ships in real time, along with two ZPMs."_

"_That certainly sounds promising Colonel, but do you trust them?" _Carter sounded wary, the same as him in fact. He had already considered such a question however, and had decided what he would say.

"_I don't think they're lying sir. Plus the way I see it, the benefits in this case outweigh the risks. They've certainly got a lot to bring to the table, not to mention a fully operational Lantian warship and we could certainly do with another ship. _

He paused for a second, debating whether to say what he really thought, and then decided that Carter deserved the whole truth. "_I don't think they'd intentionally harm us sir. It's difficult for me I know, but from what this other Elizabeth was saying, I think they're more worried about how we'll treat them. They know the SGC doesn't have a great history with copies."_

"_Ok, you have a go Colonel, but send our Mckay through the gate. If their telling the truth about what this drive can do, he'll need to get started on this tracking system as soon as possible." _

The words, "and he's far too valuable to us to risk on such a risky mission" floated unsaid, like a lead balloon between them. Carter was perfectly right of course. While no one would admit it to his face, McKay was one of their greatest scientific minds and experts on ancient tech. If he didn't insist on staying in Atlantis, with Sheppard and his team, John was sure the IOA would have him in a reinforced bunker on earth, surrounded by a few battalions of security guard.

"_Oh and Sheppard, be careful ok!"_

He grinned, forgetting she couldn't see him.

"_I'll take Ronon Sir, I'll be fine_!"

**End of chapter 2 part 2**


	8. Chapter 2c

**The Others Chapter 2 part 3**

**New Athos: aprox 1520 hours (Atlantis time).**

The jumper rose smoothly off the ground, the hum of its engines loud in the quiet of the clearing. As it climbed the engine pods extended from their mountings in the hull, the engines glowing brightly in the shadowy clearing.

The grassy space was empty, the last of the marines and civilians, along with a loudly protesting McKay, having gated back to Atlantis a few minutes previously. Prior to boarding the jumper, Sheppard had spent those few minutes examining the port engine pod for any signs of damage.

Save for a rather nasty dent in the hull plating that covered the pod when retracted; he couldn't see any major damage, even when he had extended the pod to check the inside. It had extended and retracted fluidly enough, and the diagnostic he had run after landing had reported no damage. The other McKay, after surreptitiously borrowing his counterpart's tablet, had also reported no visible problems with the Jumper's systems.

While this had reassured Sheppard slightly, he still intended to be cautious. The jumper's were sturdy beasts, but they weren't infallible. A fact either McKay could tell anyone from experience. Still he could only hope the damage was just cosmetic!

Now as he pulled the jumper into a smooth but steep climb, he kept a wary eye on readings from the engine pod. The light from the forward viewport darkened slightly, as the Jumper climbed through a thick cloud of smoke. In the dry conditions of midsummer on New Athos, the fire in the woods around the wrecked outpost had spread rapidly, causing a thick plume of smoke to rise high into the air. Thankfully the wind had been blowing the flames southwards, away from the Stargate, for the smoke was thick and choking.

After a few seconds the jumper burst clear of the smoke into clear sky, bright sunlight shining through the view screen once more. It lit up the inside of the jumper cheerfully, but the mood inside the craft was anything but cheerful. They were all nervous, shaken by what had happened.

Not too long afterwards, the sky began to darken, as the jumper started to leave the planet's atmosphere. The noise from the engines became quieter, as gravity loosened its grip on the jumper's mass. Sheppard thankfully eased up on the engines slightly, for now they had broken orbit the worst danger of the engine pod breaking from strain was gone. Now as stars began to become visible in front of them, he turned the jumper's sensors to active, looking for their destination.

Immediately he picked up a powerful energy signature in a higher orbit, but surprisingly that was all. The sensors couldn't pick up any dimensions or display an electronic image of the ship as they usually did. Slightly concerned Sheppard began to trigger his radio, then checked himself as he realised how ridiculous the words he had been about to say would have sounded. Fortunately for him, it appeared their approach was being watched, for the radio crackled into life before he had to say anything.

"_Dr Weir, Colonel Sheppard asks that you come aboard as soon as possible, he is concerned that more Replicator warships will arrive soon._"

The voice came as quite a shock to both Sheppard and 'his' Ronon. To hear Teyla's familiar tones, when minutes previously they had watched deeply concerned as she was carried unconscious on a stretcher through the Stargate, was deeply unsettling for both of them. Weir leaned forward, and gazing upwards, radioed back.

"_Understood Teyla, we'll be aboard momentarily._"

Sheppard, copying her actions, leaned forward to gaze upwards through the jumper's angled viewport. For a few seconds he could see nothing save the darkness of space, and then a shape began to emerge from the blackness. It was a long dark shape, the blackness of its hull making it hard to distinguish from the space around it. As the jumper drew nearer, Sheppard saw that the ship's outer hull, unlike the grey metal of most Lantean or Asuran ships, was either painted black or made from some very dark alloy or metal.

While he guessed that the main purpose of this was to make the ship harder to detect visually, even though the limited sensor readings suggested it had other more effective means of concealment, it also had another more psychological effect. The dark matte surface of the hull made the ship look extremely intimidating. As the jumper climbed towards it, Sheppard gave a low whistle, as his keen eyes caught sight muzzles of the energy weapons on either side of the hull.

He shot McKay a questioning look. "I assume that's one of those nastier ships the Replicators were building that you mentioned earlier?"

McKay nodded, as a set of docking instructions flashed up on the HUD. About midway along the lower hull, a large rectangular shaped pattern of blue lights flashed on, highlighting the entrance to a hanger bay. As they passed into the shadow of the hull, Sheppard swung the jumper around, bring it to a stop under the now open hanger bay doors. Automated systems took over, and taking his hands off the controls, he sat and watched as the jumper rose upwards into the hanger.

As they cleared the floor level a large open space was revealed. The shaft from the bay doors opened into the centre of the hanger with a good 60 metres extending forward and aft on either side. At the far end of either bay was situated a raised projecting structure with sloping windows, with a similarly elevated walkway on either side spanning the width the bay. The forward bay contained two large blocky ships, clearly Lantean in design, but unlike anything they had seen before. The aft bay however was empty, save for numerous advanced looking pieces of equipment, no doubt intended for the servicing of ships.

All this John saw as the jumper rotated in mid air, before heading on autopilot towards the rear of the aft bay. As it neared the end of the bay he surveyed the structure in the centre of the rear wall. On closer inspection it looked to Sheppard to be some sort of flight-control centre or control room, each one likely designed to manage its own individual bay. Certainly the tinted sloping windows looked very similar to those of the control room for the Atlantis Jumper bay, or the control towers back home on Earth.

He noted that here, unlike in the forward bay, there was no large set of armoured doors in the wall directly below the control room. In the aft bay, the only visible entrance or exit were four typically Lantean doors on either side of the hanger, grouped together in pairs at the far end of the bay from the entrance shaft. In design they were akin akin to any of the doors in Atlantis, but much sturdier looking. He noted absently that all four were easily visible from and in range of any guards that might be stationed on the walkway. This bay was clearly designed to be _defendable,_ a trait that he had never previously encountered in Lantean architecture.

The jumper came to a slow halt in mid air, before rotating and lowering itself to the ground facing outwards, between two banks of machinery. As they exited the rear of the ship, Sheppard noticed a light blink at him from a semi-circular arrangement of controls facing the jumper. As Sheppard walked around the back of it so that he was facing the jumper's open hatch, the console sprang into life. A schematic of the jumper appeared on the screen before him, with its port engine pod coloured in red. It seemed that the hanger bay computer had automatically detected a fault with the jumper once they had taken control of its flight systems, and piloted the craft to some sort of automated service or repair bay. As he watched the port drive pod pod extended outwards, and a bright green light of some sort began to play over the drive systems from the machinery to his left. On the console, a schematic appeared, apparently some sort of itemised repair list. Not just the port but the starboard drive pod was coloured in yellow, along with a number of other systems. The implications were obvious, that jumper was non operational for the near future!

As Mckay led them towards the bridge, Sheppard's original ideas about what exactly this ship represented were confirmed. While the passageways were similar in design to those of an Aurora, they were far more functional, almost spartan in appearance. This, along with a few other things, gave the ship a more militaristic air which the Orion, admittedly built by the Lanteans themselves, had always lacked.

Their journey towards the bridge was a long one, for as Mckay had pointed out, while the dreadnaught did possess internal transporters, there were none located near the hanger bays. Sheppard guessed that was also a deliberate step, suggesting that during the war with the Wraith over ten thousand years ago, some Lantean ships had been boarded. All in all, this ship, while clearly Lantean built, represented an aspect of Lantean thinking he had never seen before. While an Aurora was a powerful vessel in its own right, he had always considered it to be less of a dedicated warship than an (admittedly heavily armed) multipurpose vessel. There seemed to be no frills or compromises for convenience in this ship's design.

After passing through a final particularly thick pair of blast doors, the five of them entered the bridge. Sheppard paused slightly just inside the doorway, staring at the man opposite. He was standing near the command chair in the centre of the room, one hand resting on the backrest.

Just to his right stood Teyla, or at least, another Teyla. She seemed to be looking for someone, her face apprehensive, but when no one else entered the compartment she relaxed slightly.

Sheppard however, only had eyes for the man standing next to her. It was truly a shock, for unlike the nightmare version of himself, he could somehow tell this man really was "him."

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Sheppard stood frozen by the command chair, his eyes locked on the newcomers. He couldn't help but involuntarily move his hand slightly towards his holster. He caught his counterparts warning look and hastily checked himself. Mustering up all his resolve, he stepped down from the chair platform towards the newcomers.

He looked into his counterpart's eyes, saw the same confusion and doubt he had felt himself, and with an effort, held out a hand. With a look of suspicion, the other man took it, and shook with a firm grip.

Sheppard stepped back, and gestured with a hand around the bridge. "Welcome aboard"

Weir smiled slightly. McKay gave an exasperated snort and disappeared down the passageway, presumably towards his engine room.

The (real) Sheppard leant mock casually against a console, his eyes watchful. John sighed.

"Did Col Carter have any orders for you we should know about?" he said.

"We're to head for the nearest planet with a gate and report in. I told her I agreed with your judgement that it was a bad idea to stay here much longer" Sheppard replied.

John nodded. "Sounds like a good idea, we should probably get going then."

He stepped back up to the command chair, and pressed his hand into one of the gel control surfaces. "Mckay, hurry up and get to the engine room, we're getting out of here asap."

McKay sounded decidedly aggrieved when he replied. "For you information I'm _already_ in the engine room thanks, prepping hyperspace engines now."

Sheppard settled himself into the command chair, and started to power up the ship's main systems. With a low rumble, the sublight engines came online, and the dreadnaught began to break orbit, its powerful Ion gravitic drives easily pulling it free of the planet's gravity. Concentrating on flying the ship, John was slightly surprised to feel another mind connected with the ship's systems. Opening his eyes, he was unsurprised to see Sheppard seated at a console, surveying information on the ship's specs. With a small grin, John directed the sensor information from their escape from Asuras to the console.

When they were well clear of the planet Sheppard accessed the ship's database for information on the nearest gate. Apparently the Asurans had encountered some old Lantean outpost or installation with a surviving database, for the ship's navigation systems held an extraordinarily detailed amount of information on the galaxy's gate network. Sheppard selected a planet on an aprox 90 degree bearing relative from their original course to New Athos. Checking all systems showed green, and the hyperdrive engines were powered, he began to open a hyperspace window.

Before him, he felt as well as saw the fabric of space distort, as the usual maelstrom that was a hyperspace window was forced open by the ship's engines. Smoothly the dreadnaught accelerated forwards at faster and faster speeds; until with a slightly flash it entered the realm of hyperspace. Behind them the hyperspace window, no longer being held open by the ship's advanced engines, abruptly closed shut, and vanished from normal space.

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Already far behind them, a series of hyperspace windows flashed open in orbit of new Athos, disgorging a number of long dark shapes. If there had been anyone watching, they would have recognised the silhouette of 5 Aurora class warships. Their sensors intensively scanned the planet's surface and the surrounding space, detecting both the trace remnants of the crashed frigate on the surface and the still strong energy trail of a ship leading out into clear space.

Smoothly the 5 ships swung around in formation, and followed the energy trail. When it soon came to an end, their sensors probed the space around, looking for any signs of a cloaked ship. When they found none, they made the logical conclusion that their quarry had jumped to hyperspace. Unable to track the ship's course themselves, they signalled their Homeworld for further instructions. A few minutes later, the five Auroras once again jumped to hyperspace, following the instructions given to them by their commander.

**Unclassified system: aprox 1630 hours (Atlantis Time)**

Around half an hour after leaving New Athos, the dreadnaught dropped out of hyperspace over a beautiful green planet. A Space-gate floated serenely in high orbit.

As he had promised Carter, Sheppard announced on arrival that he needed to contact Atlantis and let them know everything was ok. His counterpart, whom Weir had taken to calling "john" to tell them apart, had agreed. He had suggested however that they use another jumper instead of their own. Since that particular ship was apparently now being stripped for repair by the ship's automated systems, Sheppard had readily agreed. He was now therefore being led by the other Teyla towards one of the dreadnaught's jumper bays. She had silently directed him to a transporter, which had made their journey to the forward sections far quicker. Apparently there were transporters near the jumper bays, unlike the larger hangers, but to reach the bay one still had to navigate a number of heavy bulkhead doors and rung ladders between decks. As he waited for Teyla to climb down a hatchway in front of him, he saw with concern that one of her sleeves was crusted what looked like dry blood. His eyes narrowed, when he saw that she wasn't favouring that arm at all or acting like it pained her at all. When they had both reached the bottom, before she could move he blocked her path and gestured to her bloody sleeve.

"What happened" he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Her eyes flashed angrily, "It's none of your concern" she said, and tried to push past him.

He grabbed her shoulders, and was treated to a ringing slap for his troubles.

He stepped back angrily, tensing for some sort of fight, until he saw the stricken expression on her face. Slightly ashamed of himself, he muttered "I'm sorry."

She didn't reply, simply sank down onto a seat by a nearby console. He crouched down beside her, feeling even more ashamed of his paranoia.

In his experience, his Teyla never showed much of her true feelings unless she was very upset or concerned about something. That wasn't to say she was distant, anything but, however she was definitely what some people would have called "deep." If this woman was anything like her counterpart, which, considering what Weir had told him was very likely, then she must be feeling pretty shit about something.

Uncertain of what to say, he spoke her name, trying to get her to explain what was wrong, or at least look at him. But at the sound of her own name, she shook a little, and a stricken expression crossed her face. She sat there in silence for he couldn't tell how long, until in desperation he wrapped his arms around her, trying to comfort this deeply upset woman.

She looked up at him, and after a little while, gently but firmly disengaged his arms from around her. She ran one hand over her right arm, pulling back the bloody and torn sleeve. To his surprise, the skin was completely unmarked. She saw his mystified expression and slowly explained.

"When we were escaping from the replicator Homeworld, we got in a fight with a number of replicator guards. We managed to kill them, but a piece of shrapnel from the grenades hit my arm. The nanites the replicators used to ... _construct_ us, meant that it soon healed, but the shock of it is still there, even if the wound itself is gone.

Sheppard could only imagine how that must have felt, he would have said something comforting, but she carried on, seemingly unaware of his presence.

"It wasn't the pain, that was bad, but it was the reminder of what i am. I'm not Teyla Emmagen, I may have her memories, her looks but I'm just a copy. The remainder of a failed experiment! I never told you John, or should I say, the real Teyla never did, but my people hold the idea of an individual, each person's ... soul, very highly. By the beliefs of my people I am nothing, and it scares me beyond anything I've seen the wraith do.

She wasn't crying, that's what he noticed suddenly, there were no tears, no hysterics, none of the theatrics his wife had used in her shouting and pleading matches with him. This woman was perfectly calm, yet terrified and very angry at the same time.

She stood up suddenly, and set off down the corridor again. As he hurried to catch up with her his mind was racing, suddenly everything didn't seem so clear cut as it had before. These people weren't just copies, as he had been trying to convince himself that they were. He hated to think what was going to happen to them once the IOA found out. They couldn't help their origins, he knew that, but he doubted the IOA would be so understanding.

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As he waited for Sheppard to report back, John played the dreadnaught's powerful sensors over the planet below. To his surprise, he found that the planet was inhabited. Not only inhabited, but the standards of some of Pegasus, it was quite advanced. From what he could see, the people below were about equivalent to the late 19th century on earth. He wondered if they even knew of the wraith. Certainly this planet was in a very isolated star system, and the Spacegate would mean they wouldn't have had contact with any other planets. Certainly the population numbers were telling. He could detect 3 particularly large settlements on different continents, each with close to a million inhabitants.

Weir walked up beside him, and gazed at the view-screen showing the sensor readings. She looked interested, and then concerned. Her comment showed she had been thinking along the same lines as him. "These people look like the Galaxy's left them alone" she said. Her face took on a concerned expression "and now we've arrived, probably with a load of replicator ships on our tail" she added.

John grimaced, that had occurred to him too. With that thought in mind, he opened an internal comms channel to the engine room.

"McKay, any progress with finding some sort of hidden tracking system or transmitter?" he said.

For about a minute there was silence, then the scientist's voice came back.

"Nothing yet, look I could probably search for weeks at this rate. I've just got started examining the main computer systems, and the compartment is huge. This thing is so automated it's probably got more computer capacity than the whole of Silicon Valley! I've ruled out a transmitter keyed in with the comms systems, but this thing is so complicated and has so many redundant systems, there could be a transmitter anywhere on the ship."

McKay sounded rather breathless, probably because he had been down on his knees among consoles and circuit boards. His news was rather worrying though. John read between the lines of what he had said, and asked

"So we're going to need some more hope before we can go anywhere near Atlantis?"

"Definitely, this ship is far too much for even me to handle alone. I could really do with about 20 more people, even Radek would be useful."

John snorted quietly at the last sentence, "Ok Mckay, I'll have the other me relay that to Col Carter."

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Sheppard and Teyla had just arrived into the forward jumper bay when the comms panel in the bay's control room beeped. Walking into the room, Sheppard searched for a moment among the many different control, and then pushed down on a crystal button that was glowing slightly.

"Sheppard here"

"Hey it's me" came the voice of his counterpart "Mckay just told me it's very unlikely that **even** he (Sheppard snorted at that) will be able to check this ship properly for any hidden transmitters or tracking devices without help. He asked if you could maybe asked Col Carter for a science team or two, he even went so far as to admit Zelenka would be really helpful"

Sheppard considered that for a second.

"Fair enough, I'll mention it to her. If that's the case I don't think we should stay here too long." he said.

"Agreed, perhaps you and Ronon should take one of the ZPM's back through the gate, we can always arrange a rendezvous somewhere else" came the voice from the bridge.

Sheppard nodded slowly to himself, understanding what the copies were trying to do. He guessed that had been Elizabeth's idea, to try gain Carter's trust. He now believed that these people were telling the truth, but the problem would be convincing Carter of that. The offer of a ZPM unsolicited would do quite a lot to aid that.

"Ok, that sounds like a decent idea, can you get the two Ronons to bring it to the forward bay. We'll have to borrow one of your jumpers I'm afraid, seeing as your ship appears to be dismantling ours!"

Weir's voice came over the comms, sounding amused. "I don't think that'll be a problem Colonel. I'm sure Rodney will look forward to helping himself to some of the emergency rations, and we could certainly all do with something to eat."

"Understood" he replied shortly, and hurried over to one of the jumper's. The bay was large and roughly circular, with 12 jumpers on two levels of 6, those on the upper level docked on similar cradles to those in the Atlantis jumper bay. As he entered the jumper the consoles came to light with a soft "thrum" blue lights glowing softly on the console. It might have been paranoia, but he checked to see if Teyla was watching before he began to dial the address. She was seated on a bench in the rear of the ship, looking down at her hands, so her view would be blocked by the bulkhead.

As he dialled the last symbol, a screen popped up in the corner of the HUD, indicating that a wormhole had been established. He was trying to think not to think about it, but the way Weir had called him Colonel had shaken him a little. He was trying to remember that she wasn't the close friend they had lost, she was a different woman, despite the memories she possessed. Triggering his headset, he started to report in to Col Carter on Atlantis.

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About 20 mins later Sheppard shut down the wormhole, and turned around to find the two Ronon's just entering the jumper bay. His Ronon (he could tell by the dried blood on his cheek) was carrying a rucksack, which he passed to Sheppard. John unzipped the bag and pulled out the softly glowing ZPM. He gazed at it with deep satisfaction for a few moments, then put it back and re-zipped up the bag.

A few moments later Weir arrived at the door of the bay as well. She came over to him, and handed him a folded piece of paper.

"You better get going. You'll find the coordinates for a rendezvous on there. We'll meet you there in 24 hours exactly. If we're lucky Mckay will have found something, if not, we might need to keep jumping for a while.

Sheppard nodded, and started to walk towards the jumper, Ronon by his side, when Weir spoke again.

"Oh and Colonel," he turned around, his expression curious. A thoughtful expression crossed her face "if it's no great trouble, could you bring a thermos of Coffee next time, I think all of us could really do with some. She smiled slightly "plus it would probably help Mckay stay awake."

Sheppard couldn't argue with the last part.

"Of course, we'll bring some clothes and food as well. I doubt the replicators stocked this thing with those."

The other Ronon grimaced. "Nope" he said curtly, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

"We'll survive. We should really be going, i don't want the Replicators to find this world if we can help it. There are people on the surface he don't deserve to suffer because of us. "

With that the three of them hurriedly left the bay and disappeared from sight around the corner. As the bulkhead doors slid shut, Sheppard and Ronan hurriedly boarded the jumper he had used earlier. As the ramp began to raise Sheppard sat in the pilot's seat, and began to power up the ship's engines, Ronon beside him.

He lifted the jumper into the air and held it over the floor in the center of the room. Guessing, he hit the same control that was used to retract the floor to the gateroom in Atlantis. It was the same here, and below him the floor retracted into a number of sections in the same way, revealing the shame narrow shaft below. Dropping the jumper into the shaft, the drive pods still retracted, Sheppard descended until he reached another set of thicker doors. Once again, at his command, they slide apart, revealing a breathtaking view of the planet below.

As they dropped clear of the hull, the drive pods extended and he started to ease forward towards the spacegate. Just as he was about to ask Ronon to dial, the sensors beeped a warning, and he saw with horror that a number of hyperspace windows were opening above the dreadnaught.

Above them he saw the vast bulk of the copies's ship start to move forward, clearly trying to shield their path to the gate. As he snapped at Ronon to dial, he opened a coms channel to the Dreadnaught. As a view of dreadnaught's bridge flashed into life on the HUD, he saw the other Sheppard seated in the command chair, a look of concern on his face. The room visibly shook, and he saw his copy's face take on a grim expression.

"Would love to talk right now, but if you hadn't noticed I'm rather busy! Hurry up and get to the gate while I can still cover you. "

Before Sheppard could say anything at all, his copy cut the comms channel. Hurriedly cloaking the jumper, Sheppard dove towards the Spacegate, only to realise as the wormhole formed a few Km ahead, that he was approaching from the wrong side. Cursing, he pulled the jumper over the top of the active gate, and spun in a tight circle a few kilometres on the far side. As he swung round, he saw the swiftly turning mass of the dreadnaught under heavy drone fire from 5 Auroras, its shields glowing brightly. As the vast ship swung around with a grace that belied its size, a flurry of drones erupted from its upper hull.

He watched as what looked like close to a hundred drones tore into one of the smaller battle-cruisers which was consumed in a vast explosion as the drones detonated inside its hull. When the flash faded, the ship was in two halves, which began to drift apart. From the looks of the damage, its shields hadn't been fully been fully raised, or the volley would never have done so much damage.

As he lined up the jumper with the active Spacegate, transmitting his IDC, the glow of the engines at the rear of the dreadnaught increased significantly. With increasing speed, the dreadnaught, drones still spitting from its upper hull to intercept fire from the Replicator ships, sped out of orbit into space, on a heading for the system's sun. As the jumper's drive pods retracted into the hull automatically, Sheppard saw a series of bright blue flashes burst from a number of places on its rear hull, to impact heavily on the shields of one of the pursuing Auroras.

From the looks of it, the replicator vessels hadn't expected to find the dreadnaught so close to them, a mistake for which they had already suffered. Now the surviving 4 battle-cruisers had reformed their formation and were already speeding after the escaping dreadnaught. Glowing yellow drones competed with volleys of blue bright flashes, and just before the jumper entered the wormhole, he saw another huge volley of yellow drones impact on the hull of one of the Aurora's. Then there was only the familiar view of the wormhole, and the Atlantis Gateroom rushing up to meet them.

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Sheppard grimaced as another volley of drones slipped through his defences, and impacted on the shields. They had been unbelievably lucky at the beginning, for the Replicator ships had dropped out of hyperspace in possible the worst possible place for them. He'd been lucky enough to destroy one of them right then, but since then things had got far more difficult.

He continued to jink and dodge as best he could, hoping that he could cause enough damage to their shields with his stern tracking pulse plasma turrets. Unfortunately each time he managed to drop one of the Aurora's shields to dangerous levels, it would pull back and wait for its shield strength to build up again. Right now his only advantage was speed, for he was slowly outrunning the Replicator vessels. He hoped that with luck he would get enough of head start to swing around safely and open up with the dreadnaught's main batteries.

Another volley of drones impacted on the shields, dropping them to 65 . He had resorted to using his drones simply as a point defence system, hoping to pick off enough oncoming fire to limit the damage. Without a full crew, he was unable to access all of the dreadnaught's weaponry and continue to fly the ship, so the numerous point defence batteries along the hull were silent. Luckily the stern turrets were auto-targeting, but trying to keep track of drones coming from 4 different directions was starting to take its toll, and dangerous numbers were managing to seep through his defences.

As the hull shook again Weir, Ronon and Teyla raced into the bridge, staggering slightly as the hull rocked. He had informed them what was happening over the PA as soon as the replicator ship's arrived. Now the three of them clung to consoles as the ship shook violently once more, for the replicators had redoubled their attempts when they realised the dreadnaught was steadily drawing ahead.

It wasn't enough though, for even as the rear turrets scored a lucky hit on one of the auroras, knocking its shield strength down to less than 10 , another volley of drones dropped the dreadnaught's shields down to just under 50 . He considered jumping to hyperspace, but the problem with that was these four ships would no doubt just follow them again. He triggered the intercom to the engine room once more as an idea struck him.

"McKay, I want you to feed every bit of power you can spare to the engines, take it from the weapons systems if you must but leave the shields and drones." he yelled over the explosions.

There was no reply, and for a second he feared that the scientist hadn't heard him or worse was injured in some way. Then he felt the power being fed to the engines surge upwards, heading dangerously into the red. The dreadnaught surged forwards like a thoroughbred, its engines glowing like a furnace, its rear canons falling silent as McKay fed their power to the engines and shields. With relief he saw the shield strength rise slowly upwards, finally peaking at around 65 , at which point it held, despite the occasional drone that managed to impact on the energy barrier.

The Auroras dropped steadily behind, unable to keep pace with the dreadnaught's speed. They continued to fire, but the greater range meant Sheppard had more time to concentrate on intercepting their drones.

As the ship ceased to shake so violently, Teyla and the others loosened their death grips on consoles and chairs around the room.

"Shouldn't we be jumping to hyperspace?" Teyla asked.

"No, we can't just leave those ships in this system, if they can't follow us they'll return to the planet and wipe out the population, and it'd be entirely our fault!" answered Weir, her tone passionate.

Sheppard coughed slightly, "Plus, they managed to find us here, there's no guarantee they won't just follow us into hyperspace and hit us the next time we try to contact Atlantis. No, whatever the reason, we need to take them out now!"

Weir eyed him with concern, "Can we do it?"

Sheppard nodded, "Yep, but we need to get far enough ahead of them so we have an advantage." He leant back in the chair slightly, letting the ship fly on autopilot, for they were far enough away from the Aurora's for their drones to be out of range.

"Basically we got lucky! They jumped into orbit above us. It meant they weren't ready, but it also meant I couldn't use the ship's main weapons. We pack a bigger punch, but I need range to attack them. In close quarters they can just smother us with drones. Plus they're fully crewed, while I'm trying to run all these weapons by myself, which is tiring I can tell you!"

Weir looked thoughtful, "so what's your plan John?" she asked.

"We slingshot, get as close to the sun's surface as is safe and use the gravity to sling us around and speed us up. At the rate we're going now, we should reach it well before they do and it will mean that when we come back round, we'll be the ones with the clear line of fire and the weapon's range. If we're lucky we should be able to pick all four of them off easily, this thing's weapons are designed to destroy hiveships!"

"Ok, assuming this plan will work, how long is it going to take us to reach the sun? Will we be safe that close to the surface?" queried Weir.

Sheppard consulted the dreadnaught's systems. They were leaving the Aurora's further and further behind, though from the looks of it, the Replicator ships had also diverted excess power to their sublight drives for as he watched, the distance between them failed to decrease any further. _Ok_, he thought, _they're not getting further away, but they're not gaining either, which is a good thing_!

"The shields should protect us fine, but I'll get McKay to divert any excess power to them anyway! As for time, well, that planet wasn't exactly far from the systems centre to start with, so at the rate we're going, I'd say about 20 minutes." he said.

**Unclassified system, unclassified Star: aprox 1725 hours (Atlantis Time)**

Approximately 20 minutes after Sheppard and Weir's conversation, the dreadnaught began to dive towards the surface of the unnamed systems star, a G-type star similar to Earth's, but much younger. As the ship headed towards the surface, following a carefully plotted course designed to use the star's gravity to accelerate the ship, the shields began to grow steadily yellow as they were bombarded with varying types of radiation.

From the bridge of the ship, the view was quite spectacular. The advanced material of the viewports, similar in appearance to glass but in fact totally different in atomic composition, blocked most of the glare, allowing the 4 of them to gaze upon the swirling ball of gas and fire. The ship's dark hull glinted dully in the bright light, despite its light absorbing coating. Sheppard watched the sensors listing the ship's speed increase steadily, as the star's gravity took hold of the vessel. Sheppard planned to grab as much inertia as he safely could, hopefully exiting the sun's gravity facing the planet before the replicators had arrived. If he timed it properly, they would make easy targets, while the immense radiation of the sun at the dreadnaught's back would hopefully affect the accuracy of their targeting systems.

Taking a risk that the ship's shielding could take it, he lowered the dreadnaught still closer to the planet's surface, and immediately felt the greater tug of the star's gravity on the dreadnaught's hull. The ship was travelling almost 1/3 faster than it had managed before, and while the outer hull was starting to heat up steadily, it was nowhere close to dangerous. Already they were close to halfway along their course around the star, and it would take much longer than it would take to complete the remaining course for the heat to reach dangerous levels. All the same, he diverted power from the now unnecessary drone systems to the shields. At the same time he reduced power to the engines, which had begun to reach dangerously high temperatures, a situation not helped by their proximity to the star. It would have no real effect on their speed, and he would need full power in a little while to break free of the gravity, best not to strain them unnecessarily.

Suddenly a number of systems began to flash urgently at him. Concerned, he surveyed the readings being displayed in his mind. To his surprise the reading didn't come from the shield systems or engines, but from the ship's astrometric sensors. The ship's computer system clearly regarded whatever the sensors were reading to be dangerous, but he could make no sense of the data being displayed before him. The readings increased, and he felt the stress on the ship's hull began to grow, as some force other than the sun's gravity began to tug at the dreadnaught's bulk. Deeply concerned, Sheppard surveyed the readings, diverting the excess engine power to the shields as a precaution. The readings looked similar to those created by the forming of a hyperspace window, but at the same time dissimilar. Just as he was debating what to do, he felt the sensors zero in on something ahead of them, and he concentrated all his attention on that one point. It was a mistake.

"JOHN" yelled Weir sounding very scared.

Sheppard opened his eyes, and then stared in horror at the sight before his eyes. A gaping blue vortex, like a funnel of water pouring down a drain, had appeared directly in front of the ship.

Reacting swiftly like the trained pilot he was, he sent the engines to full military thrust, trying to claw his way out of the star's gravity and avoid whatever the hell had just appeared before them.

The roar of the engines grew, and warning lights flashed red in his mind as the abused engines tried to break free of the massive forces of gravity and inertia. The dreadnaught's bows lifted slightly, but try as he might, he couldn't pull free of their original course.

In horror he watched the gaping tunnel in space draw nearer and nearer, and all the engines were doing was making it get closer. Desperately, he fired the landings thrusters along the base of the ship, designed to be used for delicate manoeuvres inside a planet's atmosphere. The ship's bow rose slightly more, but then gravity drew it downwards again.

He gazed around the bridge in shock; Weir was staring wide eyed, her mouth slightly ajar, her face showing utter terror. Ronon, ever practical, had grabbed hold of Teyla and was strapping her into a seat. As the ship's hull groaned dangerously at the pressures being exerted on it, John opened a comms channel to the engine room.

"_McKay, don't argue just get strapped into a chair right the hell now!"_ he shouted.

He saw Ronon physically drag Weir across the tilting deck toward a chair, saw him strap her in to it and then dive for the nearest chair himself.

When he realised for certain that there was nothing he could do to alter course. Sheppard franticly cut all power to the engines and diverted it to shields, artificial gravity and the inertial dampening system, hoping desperately that the ship would survive whatever the hell it was just about to encounter. Like an arrow from a bow, the dreadnaught shot bow first into the depths of the blue tunnel, and promptly vanished. With a blinding flash, wormhole closed shut behind it.

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When the dreadnaught failed to reappear around the sun, the Replicator vessels proceeded to scan the surrounding space intensively, looking for any indication of a cloaked vessel. When their exhaustive scans returned nothing, they transmitted a message requesting a hyperspace bearing on the dreadnaught to their Homeworld. It came back negative.

They then jumped briefly into hyperspace, before emerging in high orbit above the one inhabitable planet in the system. They then proceeded to devastate the cities of the industrial era human population below. The Asurans systematically targeted human life signs, pounding the planet's surface with drone after drone, until the buildings of the cities were piles of rubble scarcely a meter high and houses and farms were levelled or ablaze. Further damage to the planet's ecosystem was caused by the vicious re-entry of the two halves of the Aurora that Sheppard had earlier destroyed. The two sections impacted on a particularly fertile section of continent, which had largely fed one of the three major cities. The two twisted and scorched pieces of ship ploughed into the ground at colossal speeds, creating two massive impact craters and devastating thousands of acres of crops.

In a final act of devastation, the nearest vessel targeted the space-gate, a stream of drones causing the gate to shatter into several small pieces, which drawn in by the planet's gravity, soon burnt up in a stream of fiery comets, visible to the few stunned survivors below.

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In another galaxy, in another time, another bright blue wormhole flashed open, depositing the battered shape of the dreadnaught into deep space. All aboard were unconscious, made so by the rough ride. Their arrival did not go entirely unnoticed however. The brief high surge of energy generated by the dreadnaught's arrival registered on a number of scanners, on either side of the well monitored border.

Message and courier vessels were dispatched from sensor outposts to report to their respective hierarchies. While at the same time, all along the border regions, garrisons and vessels were put on higher levels of alert, as both sides studied the information on this unusual energy reading, fearful of what it meant. In one vast shipyard, a huge ship along with a number of smaller craft cast loose its moorings, and plotted a course for the triangulated location of the unusual energy signature

**End of chapter 2. **

**Finally people I've made it. We've finally arrived at the crossover! No updates for a while now I'm afraid exams to revise for!! Hope you enjoy, please read and review!!**

**Jpdt19**

"


	9. Chapter 3a

**Appologies everyone for the delay, took me longer to get back into the scheme of things here than i planned. I had to do a lot of thinking for this chapter to make it believable etc, more than might be apparent, so it took longer than planned and involved the rewriting of my first draft. Next update should come quicker now exams are over! Hope you enjoy. Thanks to Reagan, Wispr, Mackon, Inquisitor0 and others for reviewing so positively. Really encouraging, please do it again :D**

**The Others Chapter 3a  
**

The silence in the compartment, an uncommon silence, was broken by a loud groan. A solitary figure sat limp a station, strong belts securing him into place in the seat. The man slowly raised his head away from the console which he had been slumped over, gingerly probing his forehead. With a wince he touched the tender spot on his head from where his skull had connected with the warm metal. The skin was felt normal beneath his fingers, the tenderness disappearing as he touched it. Despite the lack of any he pain he quickly ceased to poke at it anyway, trying not to imagine millions of microscopic machines beneath the skin.

Carefully McKay began to unfasten the straps that were holding him in his seat. Three of them came loose fairly easily, but the fourth proved harder to deal with. Irritated he resorted to tugging forcefully at the tough material; until with an unexpected jolt it came loose, tipping him onto the floor. For a little while he lay there on his back, resting, feeling the cold metal through the fabric of his jacket, enjoying the quiet of the engine room.

_Quiet?_ His head jerked upwards swiftly, almost cricking his neck, as he listened intently for a few seconds. There was no doubt about it; the engine room compartment was very quiet, too quiet. The noise and distinctive vibration of the deck caused by the ship's four great reactors was noticeably absent.

Scrambling awkwardly to his feet, half stumbling McKay hurried to access the main engineering station. The console lit up at his touch, the crystals glowing softly beneath his fingers as he brought up a status report on the ship's reactors. The information being displayed confirmed his suspicions, all four great reactors showed as shut down, control systems locked shut. A quick check showed that thankfully the ZPM was still feeding power to the dreadnaught's systems, but that very little power was being accessed.

Power generation was one thing, the rest of the ship's systems were a different matter, and he scurried across the compartment to another section of the engine room. To his relief a duplicate feed from the unmanned damage control room, set deep in the depths of the forward hull, displayed no serious damage. Blue lights glowed steadily on a cross section schematic of the dreadnaught's hull, indicating undamaged systems, although at a few isolated points along the hull other crystals glowed a dull yellow. A few quick taps on the crystals brought up a more detailed list of the dreadnaught's status. The computer dutifully reported that most systems were working at full capacity, with 1 or 2 exceptions. Although the main sensor array registered as fully operational, there still appeared to be a problem with the sensor system. Frowning slightly, McKay attempted to investigate what wasn't working. To his irritation he couldn't seem to bring up the required information, try as he might to get the console to react. He resolved to try again later from the damage control compartment, from a console which was purposefully designed to deal with such a problem.

A quick study of the rest of the list revealed nothing more serious, although somewhat angrily, he realised the internal communication system was also offline. With no internal comms, and no radio, he had no way of contacting the others on the bridge. A quick check of the internal sensors showed 4 strong life signs in the forward section, which was comforting, but none of them seemed to to be moving.

Grabbing his tablet from the floor where it had fallen, flicking it swiftly on and off to check that it still worked, McKay headed out of the engine room. To his relief, the transporters were still online, the destination panel blinking into life helpfully as he entered the small compartment. Selecting the nearest transporter to the bridge, he watched the door slide shut and felt the usual slightly unsettling sensation as the device activated.

With a flash he appeared in another identical transporter kiosk, the doors sliding smoothly open in front of him. No sooner had they opened fully than McKay set of at a brisk jog towards the bridge. Unfortunately for him, the nearest transporter to the bridge was a good two decks below it, presumably for security reasons. Whatever the reason, McKay was soon puffing slightly as he climbed upwards through the ship.

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Around the same time McKay was picking himself up off the floor, Ronon was shaking Sheppard by the shoulders. He ceased when the Colonel opened one eye and squinted blearily at him through it. Ronon looked at him, frowning. "You ok?" Sheppard nodded, opening both eyes this time. He looked around, blinking slightly, rubbing the back of his head with one hand.

The dim lighting made it hard to tell exactly, but from the looks of it, both Teyla and Elizabeth had also been unconscious until recently. Weir was shaking her head slightly, still looking slightly dazed. Teyla on the other hand had already started to undo the straps on her chair, but even she looked a little groggy. His brain didn't seem to be working properly too, for he spent a few seconds similarly reaching to untie a harness which wasn't there. He hurriedly stopped searching for the nonexistent strap as soon as he realised what he was doing, and stepped down from the chair platform, feeling slightly foolish.

As he stepped around the consoles towards the rest of his team, one of the pairs of doors leading onto the bridge slid open with soft whirring sound, to reveal a slightly flushed looking McKay. His eyes darted around the room. The scientist's anxious looked swiftly subsided once he saw that everyone looked ok.

McKay himself looked slightly dishevelled, but unhurt. As he stepped forward into the room Sheppard absently noted that McKay had a power bar half staffed into one pocket. "You alright?" asked Sheppard, just in case. McKay brushed past him, waving off the question with an absent minded gesture.

As he hurried to a console he called over his shoulder "What just happened? I was getting all sorts of crazy readings on the sensors before everything seemed to go to hell." Sheppard rolled his eyes slightly, strange accident or replicator fleet; nothing could stop Rodney being Rodney.

"Yep me too. I'm not sure exactly, but this giant blue ... thing, just opened up in front of us."

McKay shot him an incredulous look over one shoulder. "Giant blue thing? Can you be more unspecific?"

"Yes ... I mean no! Look McKay it just appeared in front of us. I was getting some strange readings, I looked away for a second, and when I looked back there it was. There wasn't time to manoeuvre out the way, and anyway the gravity was too strong. It sucked us up and must have spat us out here."

The scientist abandoned the first console and hurried to a second. "Well, what did it look like, can you describe it?" he called as he ducked beneath the console to plug in his tablet.

"It looked like a wormhole Rodney, like a giant blue tunnel in space." said a new voice.

There as a bump, a muffled curse of pain, and then McKay popped back up from the under the console like a rabbit out of a rabbit hole. He looked wide eyed at Elizabeth, who had spoken before John had had the chance. McKay's face registered mixed expressions of confusion, shock, incredulity and fear, all in that brief moment. Sheppard didn't like the last expression that much. He gazed out the forward viewports for a moment, noting that they were apparently drifting in open space. As he watched, the view shifted slightly, the movement of the stars across the glass suggesting that not only were they drifting, but the dreadnaught was in a slow starboard roll.

Apparently McKay noticed it too, for the scientist tapped dextrously on a console. The deck plates began to vibrate ever so slightly, as the ZPM fed power into the ship's manoeuvring systems. A low humming told Sheppard that the engines had come online. The slow starboard roll ceased smoothly, as the ship's navigation systems brought the long hull under control. Soon the stars were steady spots of light through the viewports, as the dreadnaught floated at a dead stop in space.

Sheppard gave McKay a brief nod of appreciation, reassured that navigation at least was apparently unaffected by whatever the hell had happened to them. "What's our status Rodney?" he asked.

The scientist continued to examine the console in front of him, answering in a distracted voice. "Not too bad, engines and hyperdrives are in the green. Shields and Weapons are pretty much fully operational, is is life support. Power generation's no problem", but we're only running on Zed-PM power, the reactors all scrammed and automatically shut down for some reason"

"Do you have any theories about what happened, or where we are?" said Elizabeth, who'd joined them while McKay was speaking. He shook his head, still focussed on the console. "I've got no idea, well not no idea, just not much of one yet. He pulled off a panel on the side of the console, and examined the softly glowing crystals inside for a second. He slipped two of them from their slots, and examined them closely, holding them up before him. "I'm more concerned about why the sensors aren't working." he added, sounding somewhat irritated. He replaced the crystals carefully, before ducking down under the console again,

Sheppard stifled an irritated comment, recognising that to disturb McKay right now probably would only slow the scientist down. Still that sort of information should have been the first thing McKay shared with them. Trying not to think about the Wraith of Replicators for the moment, he slid into the chair of the adjacent console to that which McKay was working on. His attempts to determine their position using navigational sensors failed when the console's display reported that, in confirmation of McKay's words, no data was being received from the ship's sensor systems. Without an accurate sensor data of the surrounding stellar bodies, the ship couldn't make an accurate fix of their position.

He cursed quietly in irritation, leaning back in the chair. He gazed sideways, and saw Elizabeth surveying the screen, a rueful expression on her face. Aware that her knowledge of ancient far outstripped his, he caught her attention with a small wave of his hand, and gestured at the screen. "You're better at this than I am, what's it saying? All I'm getting is that the navigation system for some reason isn't getting any information from the sensors, but I can't understand most of it."

She frowned, and scanned the display again, gazing at the small holographic display that floated above the console. Once or twice she reached forward, and manipulated a crystal on the console, causing fresh lines of text to scroll across the screen. Her eyes rested for about 5 minutes on a section of ancient that Sheppard had been unable to decipher. He saw her mouth form words silently, as she attempted to translate the familiar symbols.

Eventually she shrugged, "I can't understand half of it, it's too scientific. I did however read something about a fault in the control circuits.." she paused and gazed at McKay who had stopped his work and was listening intently "...the control circuits, between here and the main sensor array. There was something else too, something about a secondary sensor array?" Both of them gazed quizzically at McKay, who was nodding slowly to himself, as if Weir's words had confirmed some theory of his.

"McKay?" said Sheppard distinctly, "Can you fix it?"

McKay looked aggrieved. "Of course I can, but we'll need to get to damage control. "

Sheppard debated the wisdom of leaving the bridge, but until the sensors were fixed there was nothing much they could do. It wasn't just navigation; the dreadnaught's tactical systems also relied on the sensors for targeting. Until McKay fixed the problem, if they encountered a problem they wouldn't be able to shoot or to run. Plus on a ship this size it was better they stuck together anyway.

He gestured towards the door "lead the way."

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"So how long's this going to take to fix?" asked Sheppard as the four of them trouped after McKay. Luckily for them, they had been able to access an area of the ship near damage control with the transporters, but even so, without McKay he was sure they could easily have become lost. To someone unfamiliar with its decks, the dreadnaught seemed a silent maze of passageways and compartments.

"I'm not sure exactly" called back McKay, "it depends on what we find out in damage control." He paused for a second to swipe a hand over a door control, then carried on. "If my theory is correct, based on what Elizabeth translated and the other information I got from the ship's systems, then the main sensor array's working just fine. The problem is with the control circuits leading from it to the rest of the ship's systems. If we're lucky we can just reroute the sensor data through backup circuits, but if too many circuits are damaged or burnt out then that could take a while, and there's only one of me. It really depends on what's gone wrong.

In that then we'll have to rely on the auxiliary sensor array until I can fix the main one. We'll have limited range, but we'll still be able to use the weapons systems and jump to hyperspace, just not very far.

Sheppard digested that thoughtfully. "So worst case scenario, we'll have limited sensors in a few hours then?" he asked.

McKay turned to face him. "No, worst case scenario, the auxiliary sensor array's control circuits are also fried and I'll have to spend hours inside maintenance conduits replacing them. In that case, it could be days, not hours."

As McKay carried on down the corridor, Sheppard caught Ronon muttering something. While he couldn't hear the whole sentence, he did a number of choice  
swearwords, along with the curt reference which sounded like "nothing new then."

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"Have you ever watched Star Trek Sheppard? I for one would definitely prefer another name for this ship than that of the most accident prone vessel ever to navigate space." McKay took the crystal Teyla handed him, and ducked back down behind the panel. "Especially", _there was a thudding noise_, "if you consider our" _a whirring sound_ "recent luck, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to tempt fate any further."

Sheppard closed his mouth. He had opened it again to say something when McKay added loudly, his voice muffled but still intelligible from behind the panel "Oh, and who says you have the right to name this ship anyway, _you_ got to name the last one. I for one think that someone else should have a go."

"I just said we should probably give her a name McKay. _You _were the one who brought up Enterprise not me! Anyway, we can't keep calling her 'the ship' can we?" Sheppard retorted, looking at the data being displayed on a console.

They had been in the dreadnaught's damage control centre for at least an hour already. It was a squat rectangular room, at least half as big again as the bridge, set deep within the heart of the dreadnaught. The sheer amount of displays and consoles would have indicated its importance, even to the most uniformed observer. Like the bridge or engine room, the walls were lined with consoles and display screens, most of which were currently displaying reams of ancient characters.

What dominated the compartment whoever, were two large central consoles, one at each end of the brightly lit space. That at the far end was a made up of four large consoles, typically Lantean in design, each possessing a wide display screen. They formed a large roughly circular console, with enough room for three people to operate each side. The console nearer the hatch however was by far the more impressive. In design it was fairly straightforward, at first glance a raised hexagon, with a number of control surfaces around the outside of each panel.

When activated however, like it was at that moment, the large holographic projector housed in the upper surface displayed a large incredibly detailed hologram of the dreadnaught. It was in effect a large 3D representation of the ship's status, granting the head of the damage control contingent an astounding ability to detect, assess and then and direct his teams to deal with battle damage. The advanced technology actually allowed a user to electronically 'peel back' sections of the hull to examine inner sections of the ship. It also allowed up to 6 users to detach sections of the dreadnaught from the main image, so that while a general overview of the ship floated above, damage control in these individual sections could be examined and controlled separately. It was an enormously user-friendly system and effective system, and unknown to any of the current crew, one of the key reasons behind the dreadnaught class's amazing ability to soak up damage during the war with the wraith.

Almost as soon as they had arrived McKay had been drawn like a magnet to this amazing piece of technology, and had soon had about 4 separate sections of the ship floating above the large table like display. After about 10 minutes he'd detached a wall panel, with Ronon's assistance, and crawled on his hands and knees into a narrow conduit, leading to some of the ship's control circuitry. Every now and then he'd emerge from the tunnel to examine the displayed sections of the ship, for a few moments, before returning to his lair.

After this had happened the first few times Sheppard had tried, not unreasonably he thought, to ask McKay whether the damage was serious. His questions had been loudly rebuffed, and after being accused of time-wasting for perhaps the 5th time, in an attempt to hide his exasperation, he had begun to closely examine the hologram of the dreadnaught. It was as he studied the ship's deadly lines that he realised they hadn't yet decided on a name for her. Unfortunately, as soon as he had attempted to raise this matter, McKay had stuck his head out of the conduit and started arguing.

As the pair of them continued to bicker, Teyla drew Elizabeth aside from the conversation. "Elizabeth, why does John refer to this ship as 'her'?" Weir saw that the small Athosian looked slightly puzzled and after a moment's thought, tried to explain. "It's been tradition for centuries for ships that sailed Earth's oceans to be referred to as 'her' she said. "I'm not sure why exactly but the same principle was applied to our spaceships as well. I think it's just tradition, though there's probably a certain amount of superstition involved as well."

Teyla look slightly surprised at that. In truth, she was. While John and the others had done their best to explain Earth's culture to her when they said something she did not understand, she still found them strange at times. To hear that they had superstitions seemed, unlikely, considering the more 'doubtful' views of events they had expressed in the past. She for one would never have thought of Rodney McKay as holding any superstitious beliefs, but apparently she had been wrong.

Weir smiled at her. "We're very confusing aren't we?" she said quietly. Teyla shot her an affirming look, nodded, and then headed over to join Ronon. The tall Satedan was sitting perched on a console, and looking bored and equally baffled by the McKay and Sheppard's conversation. Weir suppressed a faint smile of amusement, before walking over to rejoin John.

"So" she spoke playfully "have you decided on a name yet?" Sheppard shot her an appalled look. It was too late however, as McKay almost immediately stuck his head out of the crawlspace and glared at John. Weir tried hard not to show her amusement, but failed totally. Sheppard waited until the scientist crawled back into the tunnel, muttering something about 'timewasters,' before turning on her.

"How could you do that to me?" he hissed. When she shot him a totally unrepentant smile, he rolled his eyes and on a whim asked "How about you? Have you had any ideas?" Weir shook her slightly, but from her expression, he guessed she was giving the matter serious thought.

He walked away towards her, grateful for an opportunity to take at least 1 person's mind off their situation, if only for a while. One of the many things he had learned during his years as a senior officer, was that keeping people busy was a good way to stop them worrying about things they couldn't change.

He glanced over at Ronon and Teyla, both of whom were leaning against a control panel by the hatch, looking bored. He had noticed Ronon check his gun at least 5 times in the last 10 minutes; something Sheppard knew the Satedan did involuntarily when he felt should be doing something.

"Ronon" he called. Ronon looked up at him quizzically. "Since there's nothing much we can do here until McKay's finished, why don't you and Teyla go check the jumper for supplies? We might be here for a while, let's see what we've got in the way of food and water."

Ronon nodded and started out the door, then stopped and looked back at Sheppard. John grinned, understanding the silent question. "I'll come with you to the transporter, it's easy after that."

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It was about 10 minutes later when Sheppard walked back into damage control. He found Elizabeth resting in a chair, eyes closed. He attempted to sneak by quietly, but her eyes flickered open anyway.

"Hydra" she said, putting great emphasis on the word.

"What?" he said, confused.

"A name for the ship" she said, sounding rather satisfied with herself. "Something deadly, powerful, hard to kill." She gave a small smile, "Hydra"

He considered the name for a moment, and was about to reply when with a scrambling noise, McKay climbed out of his narrow conduit. The scientist stretched himself, quite understandably considering he'd been on his hands and knees in the narrow space for almost an hour. The conduit was easily tall enough to stand upright in, but McKay had been working towards the bottom for most of the time.

"Done" he pronounced triumphantly. "Great," said Sheppard, "What's done?" Rodney eyed him suspiciously, "what do you mean, _what's done_?" "I mean, what's done Rodney, have we got sensors yet?" "No not just yet," said McKay, and then quickly cut Sheppard off before the Colonel could begin his angry comment. "What I mean is, I've managed to reroute the damaged or faulty circuitry between the auxiliary sensor array and the main computer. So give me a few moments to tell the computer what's going on, and we'll have working sensors."

Sheppard gave a short sigh of relief. "Good job McKay, and don't get me wrong here, I'm 'really' happy we can see again, but what's up with the main sensor system? How badly is it damaged?"

"As I said before, there's nothing wrong with the array itself. Unfortunately, not only is there damage to the control circuits, but it's scattered across the ship, and I can't get to all of it from here. There was less damage to the secondary system so I concentrated on that. I guessed you'd prefer reduced sensors now, to full sensors in about 2 days!"

"Right, good thinking McKay,"

Yes, well, if you'll excuse me, I'll _actually_ get the sensors up and running shall I?" said Rodney, pushing past Sheppard in the direction of the circular central console, sitting down in a chair before one of the wide display screens.

Sheppard leaned slightly wearily against the hologram table, and then absent-mindedly began to fiddle with the controls. The sections that McKay had been working on vanished and a much larger image of the dreadnaught appeared, floating at eye level before him. For a few moments he pulled out a smaller section of hull around the hanger bays, and saw the two small dots that represented Teyla and Ronon. From the position of the dots, they were still in the main hanger, checking supplies in the jumper.

In a sudden burst of curiosity, he shifted the image to display the foreword hanger bay, surveying the two small shapes that occupied it. While the console he was using was chiefly designed for damage control, it did seem to have access to the ship's database, for at his mental command a 3D image of a small blocky ship appeared below that of the dreadnaught. Lines of ancient text began to form into a column next to it. With some interest he discovered that the two ships were a form of cargo transport, designed to ferry troops or supplies to and from the dreadnaught. They were also apparently hyperspace capable, but had a limited range. They seemed to be just what they on Atlantis had been lacking for a long time, a vessel similar to the jumpers but with the ability to carry greater amounts of cargo.

Making a mental note to examine one if they had the time, Sheppard was just about to leave the console and discuss something with McKay, when the system flashed some sort of warning at him. Curious, he ordered the computer to display the location of the problem. Before his eyes the hologram of the dreadnaught seemed to stretch, as the system 'zoomed in' on a particular section of the starboard hull. A point on the hull was glowing a dull yellow, which Sheppard was pretty certain it had _not_ been doing a few moments previously.

He was just instructing the damage control system to feed him more information about that area, when behind him McKay finished reconfiguring the dreadnaught's sensor systems. With a look of triumph McKay brought the sensors online to full power and ordered them to perform a sweep of the surrounding space. Closing his eyes and leaning back, he was just about to allow himself a moment to relax at a job well done, when the console issued a worrying beep. His eyes snapped open, his look of triumph disappeared abruptly. "Um Sheppard, we've got a small problem."

Behind him, Sheppard could see what the problem was was. "As soon as McKay brought the sensors online, the holographic display table had flickered momentarily, then updated itself with the new information. The "_small problem_" referred to by McKay, was a sleek, deadly looking vessel, floating on a parallel bearing to the dreadnaught, only about 60 metres off her starboard side. It was a fairly small ship of only about 400 metres in length and it was totally unlike anything he'd seen before. It certainly wasn't Wraith, or Replicator that was for sure.

What was really worrying however, was that innocent looking patch of yellow light, representing damage to the dreadnaught's hull. As he watched, the dull yellow changed to an angry flashing red, and Sheppard cursed as the information scrolled across the screen. Translated it basically read: "_Warning, damage detected to primary starboard airlock. Unknown life signs detected, activating internal security fields_." McKay appeared by his side, mouth slightly open as he read the scrolling text.

Mckay gulped slightly, "Oh shit, we're being boarded."

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**Ok, there you are people. Hope you enjoyed it. Sorry if there wasn't much fighting etc, that's next chapter. Needed to set the scene here. BTW did i mention i hate how this damn website mucks up formating. It's taken me 15 minutes to get this re-edited to a form where it's actually readable amd the bloody thing still keeps changing things grrr! If the passages are too close together, rest assured it's not my fault, it's the website!**

**Please Read and Review!! Go on, press that review button, even if you're only going to say "Nice story!" It's ever so irritating to simply get a "story alert" notification, but no comment. Why should i bother i no-one reviews!!**


	10. Chapter 3b

**Thanks for all the Wonderful reviews, now in reward for your patience, the second part of chapter 3.**

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**The Others chapter 3b**

**Dreadnaught Hydra: Damage Control Compartment**

Before McKay could even say another word, Sheppard's hand was already half way to his radio. It halted abruptly when he realised with irritation that neither Ronon nor Teyla possessed a single radio between them. Thinking quickly, he redirected the hand to the console in front of him, intending to use the Ship's internal comms system instead. Nothing happened. He tried again, and once more was rewarded only by a dull buzzing noise.

"Use the PA instead," said McKay from behind him, "there, try now." Sheppard once more manipulated the controls in front of him, and was rewarded this time by a line of ancient text flashing across the console. After briefly but succinctly informing Ronon and Teyla of the situation over the PA, he shut down the system and turned swiftly to Elizabeth and Rodney.

"Ok, Rodney, I want you to seal all hatchways and compartments around that airlock. Also, once I'm over there, I want you to shut down the transporters. Ok?" Rodney nodded, watching as Sheppard began to unclip his radio. He handed it to McKay, "put that on" he said, "I'm going to need to be able to contact you guys."

As Rodney began to fix the radio in place, sliding the microphone into place with practiced ease, Elizabeth caught Sheppard's arm. "John, just because they've boarded us, doesn't mean we should necessarily view them as hostile. We have no idea where we are, for all we know they could simply be curious to our identity. We've all been away from the bridge for a good hour, they could have tried to contact us and we'd never know," she said reasonably.

That possibility had occurred to Sheppard, but his training and experience told him to be careful. They were only 5, and as yet they had no idea where they were or who had just come aboard. The ship alongside may not have been Wraith, but that meant nothing. It also looked ominously like a warship, which meant there was a good chance the boarders would be armed. He had read enough SGC mission reports to know there were other races just as bad out there. Hoping he was simply being paranoid, he nodded in agreement.

"Alright, I promise to be careful ok, we won't make any threatening moves," he said conceding the point, "but one way or another, they're getting off the ship. There's too few of us if they did try anything. I'm perfectly happy to chat politely over the comms system," he said firmly.

She looked slightly concerned, but nodded her agreement. In her time as leader of the Atlantis expedition she had retained her hope that the people they met would prove trustworthy and peaceful, but had also learnt the hard way that sometimes the best option was force. The pair of them still frequently disagreed about certain courses of action, often heatedly, but they respected and deferred to each other's experience.

"Hope for the best, plan for the worst?" she asked rhetorically as he headed for the door. He didn't answer, simply smiled. "McKay", he called. The scientist looked up from his console, his tablet in hand. "You should probably seal this door, just in case," said Sheppard calmly. McKay's eyes met his, and the scientist nodded. As Sheppard set off down the corridor towards the transporter alcove, the heavy bulkhead doors of damage control slid smoothly shut.

**Ronon's POV**

Sheppard's voice had rung out loudly across the large hanger, echoing slightly. "_Ronon, Teyla, we've got a bit of a problem. There's a strange ship alongside, and they've just sent a boarding party. We don't know who they are yet, but just in case I suggest you guys get loaded up with whatever weapons are down there. The internal comms system is offline so see if you guys can find some radios down there. I'm on my way down now, so I'll meet you by the hanger transporter in 5 minutes._

Ronon and Teyla had been in the jumper packing a pair of rucksacks full of emergency rations and survival gear when Sheppard's voice had come over the speaker. They now dropped those hurriedly and began more military preparations. Flipping up the clasps of a small samsonite case, Ronon pulled out a couple of radios and their accompanying headsets. Tossing one to Teyla, he clipped a second to his belt, adjusting the microphone to the right place, and pocketed the third. Teyla in return tossed him a vest, which he slipped on, after carefully folding his long coat and placing it on a seat. Crossing to another chest, he flipped open the catches and pulled out a pair of P90s. Handing one to Teyla he clipped the other onto his vest to give to Sheppard, and searched for a weapon for himself.

The Atlantis expedition's jumpers usually held a wide assortment of weaponry, in addition to the personal weapons of individual team members, and this one was no exception. Encountering a box of 9mm automatics, Ronon, who with his gun did not need one, pocketed one for Sheppard and tossed another to Teyla. Snatching it easily out of the air Teyla slipped it into a holster, and went back to loading her pockets with spare clips and the odd grenade. With a small grin, Ronon then pulled a long automatic shotgun from a case, followed by another, which he held out to Teyla. After a moment's hesitation, she slung the SPAS-12 over her shoulder, and began to add shotgun ammunition to a rucksack she was rapidly filling. Ronon, leaning his own shotgun against a bench seat began to do likewise, filling his own vest and a similar small rucksack with ammunition and other useful items.

A little under 5 minutes later, both of their bags were full, zipped closed and slung over their shoulders. Ronon cast one long glance about the interior of the jumper, his eyes moving mournfully over the rocket launcher in the corner. Teyla caught his gaze and shot him a sharp look. As he looked away to prevent his eyes from meeting hers, Ronon's gaze fell on a set of small green metal boxes stacked neatly on an overhead shelf. To his companion's surprise, the already overloaded Ronon reached up to pull down a couple of them, revealing just more ammunition.

He made a small noise of approval before reaching down and searching under the seats below the shelf where they had been. With a noise of effort, the already heavily armed satedan dragged a long green gunmetal case from under the benches, and hefted it awkwardly onto the wide seat. A serial number, picked out in yellow, was cut into the metal of the lid. It read M249 SAW / SPW. Ronon grinned, and lifted the lid.

**Sheppard's POV**

There was the usual flash of light and tingling sensation, before the transporter alcove materialised around him. The doors slid open to reveal Ronon and Teyla, a very heavily armed Ronon and Teyla. As Sheppard took in the arsenal that hung off Ronon's broad shoulders, he wondered guiltily what Weir would have thought of this. The thick belts of ammunition slung over each shoulder were definitely a new touch, inspired no doubt by some of their movie nights on Atlantis.

He took the P90 that Ronon handed him, checking the action and loading a new clip in one smooth movement, prior to clipping it onto the vest he still wore. Next came a Berretta, which after chambering a round and refilling the magazine with an extra bullet, he safed and slid into its holster.

As he began to clip extra magazines to his belt, he gave Ronon and Teyla a rundown of the situation, while the latter handed him more ammunition from a rucksack. As he clipped a couple of grenades onto his webbing, Ronon asked "So what's the plan?" as the Satedan used the time to fill a large shotgun with cartridges.

"Not much of plan yet" he said truthfully, "We load up, go meet whoever it is, and ask them to get off our ship. I told McKay to seal all the doors in that section of the ship so they shouldn't have got far yet." He nodded to Ronon, "got a spare radio?" he asked, and then caught the radio and headset that Ronon tossed to him.

"Do we have any idea who they are?" asked Teyla thoughtfully. Sheppard shook his head, "No idea. I didn't recognise the ship. They could be perfectly friendly for all I know." he paused for a second to clip the radio onto his belt, then continued talking. "We've been down in damage control so they could've been trying to contact us for ages and we wouldn't know."

"And if they're not perfectly friendly" asked Ronon, as with a click he slotted the last of the shells into his SPAS-12.

Sheppard who was with great annoyance struggling to untangle the twisted cable of his headset, answered distractedly. "Then we politely show them our guns, and show them off the ship," he said flippantly, as he managed to unsnarl the offending cable, and began to thread the plastic covered wire through his vest. He glanced around. "You guys ready?"

In response, Ronon pumped the action of his shotgun, causing the mechanism to load a shell into the breach with the distinctive _clunck ka-chak _noise. It was an impressive move, especially when you took into account the Satedan was handling 9 lbs of plastic, metal and alloys with just one hand. Sheppard simply rolled his eyes, and led the trio into the transporter.

As the destination screen glowed into life, he noticed with satisfaction that with one exception, all the other transporter stations were no longer highlighted. McKay obedient to his instructions had cut power to most of the network, preventing their visitors from spreading around the ship should they god forbid reach a transporter. He selected the one remaining white dot, the transporter nearest to the starboard airlock, and heard the doors of the cubicle slide shut behind him.

Milliseconds later, a pair of identical doors slid open in another section the ship, and out stepped Ronon, Teyla and Sheppard. John, who had finally succeeded in fixing his radio headset into place, flipped a switch on the radio, and adjusted the frequency and encryption circuit to the strongest and most secure channel. Indicating that Ronon and Teyla should do otherwise, he tapped his headset, hearing a slight crackle as the channel opened.

"Alright McKay, cut power to this transporter now, we're here" he radioed. Behind him the destination panel of the transporter obediently went black, a panel sliding up to cover it, while the twin doors slid together with a soft thud. The softly glowing blue crystals of the door mechanism on the wall beside it flashed once, then died as McKay cut power to the system altogether.

Sheppard gazed around. The three of them stood at the junction of a series of corridors, all leading to the transporter, and brightly lit with the usual soft blue and white lighting common to Lantean technology. He guessed they were still several compartments from the airlock itself, because apart from anything else, all the controls here were still operational. He touched his radio again, "Ok Rodney, I'm going to need directions to the Airlock_."_ He listened carefully to the reply, and gestured for his companions to follow him down a corridor leading off to their right. "How far do we have to go_?"_ he queried as he jogged around the curve of the corridor, passing numerous closed doors, heading apparently for a hatchway that lead to the deck below.

The reply made him swear, and break into a run, his companions forced to sprint to catch up with him. As he ran, pausing only momentarily to check his bearings, Sheppard grimaced. Along with the rather unwelcome information that the airlock was 3 decks and several compartments below them, McKay had given him a rough count of how many boarders they were dealing with. It was not an encouraging figure.

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The wormhole had spat out the Hydra in possibly one of the worst places for an unknown ship to suddenly appear. The system was outwardly lifeless; it's few remaining satellites unclaimed spheres of rock, bathed in the blinding light of an enormous red giant. Radiation from the raging surface of the dying star had millions of cycles ago turned the surfaces of the few terrestrial inner planets that had escaped being engulfed by the expanding star to seas of molten rock.

With the exhaustion of most of the star's fuel supply, the outer planets received a fragment of the heat they had once enjoyed, despite their increased proximity to the star's surface. The 6th planet was a large gas giant, made up chiefly of hydrogen and helium, but with high concentrations of ammonia, methane and water, what would be called an Ice Giant on earth. The temperature of the planet's atmosphere had decreased significantly with the gradual demise of the system's star, causing the gases that formed it to turn largely to ice. Needless to say, like every other planet in the system, it was uninhabitable. In short, the system appeared worthless; in fact it didn't even have a name.

What made it important then was its location, for it formed part of a star cluster of mostly equally barren systems, situated just across the border, directly opposite the main peacekeeper and Scarren defence zone. Few ships travelled here, but some chose to skirt the border zone and cross into the uncharted territories. As such the system lay on something of an unofficial trade lane, much frequented by smugglers or others whose cargos were less than legal, who chose this roundabout and hazardous route because it was unpatrolled. It had in fact been infrequently

patrolled for hundreds of cycles by Royal Navy of the Royal Sebecean colonies. While it had never during the past 1900 cycles been claimed by the colonies, as trade to the colonies waxed and waned over time, the Royal Navy had for regular periods patrolled what was a fairly major trade route into their space. In light of growing tension between the major powers that bordered the region, the current Empress of 230 cycles ago ordered the withdrawal of her forces from the area. In light of vital importance that neutrality played in the survival of the Royal Colonies, the fear that vessels of the Royal Navy might accidently, or deliberately find themselves involved in some conflict with either the Peacekeepers or the Scarrens Empire was too great.

As such, when 10 cycles ago a convoy of Scarren military transports entered the system, it was unpatrolled. They were only superficially disguised as traders, but to the PK technicians manning the long range sensor outposts along the border, they had read as just another convoy apparently heading for the Royal colonies, hidden in plain sight among dozens of other vessels. The PK sensor net along the border with the Uncharted Territories was as yet limited in its coverage and effectiveness. Unlike the highly sophisticated system along the main border, this older and only recently reactivated system served more as an early warning system, outdated and designed only to track the energy emissions of vessels. Up until now Scarren vessels had lacked the range to reach this section of the border, but aware from intelligence reports that the latest classes of Scarren vessels being introduced possessed far greater range than previously, Peacekeeper High Command ordered the upgrading of the vulnerable border.

The Peacekeepers had been steadily updating or reactivating the older systems along this frontier, but the sheer scale of the task meant that it would be at least 4 more cycles before this sector came to the top of the worklist. Until then, local commanders were forced to rely on numerous, but outdated patrol craft, for as tensions heightened, the Peacekeepers were finding themselves increasingly stretched both for manpower and resources. Construction work on such a scale was almost impossible to hide, for both the manpower and the materials transported to the border came from local sources, where such information was easy to obtain. The Peacekeeper intelligence directorate did their best, but they despite their best efforts, the expected deadline for the completion of each section of the border stations was known to the Scarrens.

Shortly before entering the system, the Scarren convoy had passed outside the coverage of the nearest station. A few arns later, right on time, the next station would detect the 6 ships entering their sensor envelope, on precisely the same course and speed as had been reported to them. Their energy signatures slowly passed across the screens until they once again passed out of range, on a heading for the Royal colonies, beyond the range of any more Peacekeeper tracking stations.

At that range, and considering the age of the recently revitalised sensors systems, it was a commendable effort. Unfortunately, although the Peacekeepers had begun hurriedly reactivating the long derelict sensor stations in light of the deteriorating relations with their neighbour, the work had been going slowly. While most of the sensor grid constructed over a thousand cycles previously during the Sheyang conflict was once again online, it was woefully outdated. It certainly had greater range than it had when originally constructed, but despite the more advanced control systems and power generators, the tracking station still utilised the same out of date principles.

Thus while the two stations were able to track the convoy, on its approach and departure from the system, at a range which they would not have been able to monitor previously, they were unable to detect the slight difference that a more modern system would have picked up on. In short, the second station couldn't and didn't register the significantly reduced energy emissions from the 6th contact on their screens.

The 6th ship of the convoy, crammed to the brim with building materials and engineers, was actually, when the rest of the convoy re-entered the Peacekeeper Scanning envelope, performing a careful landing on the surface of a small planetoid in orbit around the 6th planet. Its place in the convoy was taken by a decoy vessel, which until the convoy's arrival had been docked aboard one of the other transports, concealed inside a false cargo bay. It consisted of little more than a hetch drive, a basic navigation system, and an efficient but compact reactor. It was in fact less than a quarter of the size of the vessel it replaced, but its reactor was stripped from a military patrol ship, and thus its power signature was closer to that of a much large vessel. None the less, the energy readings didn't match, but that didn't matter.

The bored technicians manning the sensor outpost saw what they expected to see, 6 ships in convoy, presumably traders, on a slow but steady course for the Royal colonies.

Once they were well out of range of the sensor net, the drone vessel was deactivated and brought back back aboard, prior to the convoy performing an abrupt course change. Accelerating to speeds capable only to military vessels, the ships wheeled onto a roundabout course back to Scarren space, that would take the transports well clear of PK patrols. Their disguises would not stand up to anything more than a cursory scan, and even the sleepiest tech couldn't miss that these "traders" were travelling at speeds that were decidedly, unusual, for any ship not equipped with military grade reactor systems.

Far behind them, the 6th vessel, landed inside a large impact crater on the perpetual dark side of the rocky moon, began the first stages of construction. Over the next 9 cycles, at irregular, but preplanned intervals, more convoys of "traders" would pass through the system, each time bringing more materials and personnel, as construction progressed and the secret facility expanded, to fill over half the 6 metra wide crater. Soon there were close to 50 vessels docked on the planet's surface, housing close to 4 thousand workers and engineers. By the 7th cycle after construction first began, the forward supply base and shipyard was near completion. A cycle later, the fuel and ammunition bunkers began to fill up, and a squadron of 5 elite Stryker fast attack ships snuck undetected into the system, shortly followed by a regiment of elite Scarren heavy infantry.

No subspace communications left the system, no courier vessels brought orders, everything was done in complete secrecy, enforced viciously by the Okrana division of Scarren counter-intelligence. Amazingly, as the 10th anniversary of the beginning of construction drew near, nobody among Peacekeeper high command, let alone the High Chancellor, was aware that the Scarrens had managed to construct a heavily armed forward supply base, within 6 light years of their most vulnerable border.

And it was into this system, with an enormous energy spike from the wormhole that not even the outdated Peacekeeper sensor stations could miss, that the Hydra was spat out, to drift with her unconscious crew. None aboard were aware of the previously untested targeting systems probing their vessel, or of the Stryker launching to intercept and investigate this worrying contact. All things considered, there could have been better places to be unceremoniously spat out from a wormhole, than the location of the most secret and crucial installation in the entire Scarren invasion plan.

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**Present Day**

**Ex Asuran Dreadnaught Hydra: Starboard Airlock compartment.**

The doors shuddered slowly open, forced sideways by brute force. A pair of metal bars were jammed into the tracks at the base of either door panel, held in place by two hulking Scarrens. As the two of them strained against the door mechanism, a slighter figure slipped between them, dressed in the beige and orange of an engineer. With a swiftness that spoke of long experience, the Kalish pulled a series of charges from his pouch, and forced them into the door mechanisms top and bottom. Shielding his eyes, he ducked back into the airlock chamber, taking cover. A millisecond later, there was a bright flash, and the door frame seemed to glow a dull orange, as the chemical charges fused the door alloys to the door frame, fixing it in place.

Easing through the narrow gap between the two Scarrens, the first section advanced into the compartment beyond, their weapons held ready. Once they had taken up positions covering the only entry into the compartment, the leader growled softly in Scarren, and a further 5 figures, including the two Scarrens who had prised open the hatch, advanced out of the airlock, to take up positions against the bulkheads on either side, seeking what little cover there was in that sparse empty room.

The section leader of the 14 strong boarding party, a tall hulking Scarren, clad in the armour and insignia of an officer, eyed the corridor ahead of him with distaste. It was brightly lit, which irritated his eyes, but worst of all, the bulkheads lacked even the smallest amount of cover. He had seen such a tactic before, and recognised the danger. In that narrow corridor, a defending force could make every shot count, and pick his men off one by one. He caught the eye of his second in command, who was also eying the passageway with equal suspicion, and growled an order. The scarred veteran nodded, and as his superior and his troops advanced swiftly down the corridor, bending low, he and the rest of his section kept their weapons trained on the far end of the corridor, ready to provide cover fire if necessary.

It was with a small amount of relief that the first section reached the end of the corridor unchallenged, to spill out into a small rectangular compartment, also brightly lit. Soft blue lights glowed along the walls, while in the centre of the ceiling a single glowing panel light the room with a clear white light, but the Scarren commander cared little for this. Set into the bulkheads on either side from the access corridor, was an armoured door, set slightly back to provide cover for a defending force. Both were clearly sealed, but that wasn't what had caught his eye. Located a little in front of the door frame of either hatch, was a glowing circuit of blue/white crystals, set into a projecting rectangle of metal like the frame of a door. Another less experienced soldier might have dismissed it as frivolous decoration, but the soft glow extending slightly beyond the circuit of crystals set alarm bells ringing in the Scarren officer's brain.

With a shove, the Officer pushed a charrid soldier forward towards one of the doors, ordering him to try opening it. As the soldier drew level with the glowing ring of crystals, there was a bright blue flash, and an audible crackle of energy. The charrid was hurled backwards abruptly, to land heavily on the deck, clearly stunned. The officer, with mixed feelings of anger and satisfaction, surveyed the glowing ring of crystals, and the space between where the once again invisible energy barrier rested. Bringing up his carbine, he experimentally discharged a glowing pulse of sapphire energy towards the door. It never reached the metal, to splash harmlessly against a glowing blue energy barrier which shimmered softly, then vanished.

Ignoring the still unconsciousness charrid, the Scarren activated his comms, calling for his second in command to bring the rest of his men and their heavy equipment through the corridor. It appeared, he was going to need something a little more special than brute strength to get through these doors.

**Sheppard's POV**

Sheppard ran along yet another corridor, all too aware of how long it was taking the three of them to reach the starboard airlock chambers. By his watch it had been at least 15 minutes since the intruder alert had sounded in damage control, too long. Even with the aid of the transporter, the size of the ship was working against him and his team. He judged it would take them another 5 minutes at least to reach the airlock compartment.

So far, according to McKay, their visitors hadn't left the vicinity of the airlock, presumably delayed by the sealed bulkheads and security force fields. That he supposed was comforting, but only a little. While Sheppard had faith in the Lantean force field technology, he knew that the dreadnaught's defences against boarding parties had their limitations.

During the hours in Hyperspace on the way to New Athos, nearly 12 hours earlier, Sheppard had taken the time to investigate the contents of the Hydra's computer database. Among the multitude of other data, he had discovered a section devoted to the construction and design of the dreadnaught class. The amount of detail had surprised him, for the database had also included a wealth of information on the preliminary design and thought processes behind the class itself, some of which appeared to date from the war of 10 000 years previously. He could only assume that the data had been salvaged by the Asurans from a Lantean era database, for McKay had actually recognised some of the names attached to the reports.

Of more concern to Sheppard now, were a series of reports he had read relating to boarding actions by the Wraith on Lantean vessels. Apparently even in the early stages of the war Lantean security teams had proven woefully inadequate to deal with typically larger, more heavily armed Wraith boarding parties. Attempts to rectify the situation with measures including stronger and more numerous force fields proved only marginally effective, only serving usually to slow the Wraith assault troops down.

Eventually, after the loss of many irreplaceable ships and personnel, the Lanteans learnt their lesson, and started to station large units of heavily armed marines aboard their warships. These troops, equipped with the latest weaponry and armour, immediately proved their worth. Where possible the Lanteans also began to refit their existing vessels, and modify those under construction, incorporating features that helped swing the balance their way during boarding actions. As a brand new design, the dreadnaught class incorporated the best and most effective of these measures, with internal defences that were an order of magnitude stronger than those of an Aurora, and a larger than usual marine compliment.

Unfortunately, while the Hydra's formidable internal defences were currently powered and ready, she lacked the 350 marines intended to work in combination with them. Should their visitors manage to get past the force fields, bulkhead doors and other systems; there were only Ronon, Teyla and himself to try contain them.

For a moment he wished fervently that they already knew these people's (assuming they were people) intentions. If he already knew for certain they were hostile, things would be so much simpler. He could have simply had McKay depressurize the compartment, or vent them into space, or whatever other terrifying measure Rodney might come up with. As it was they had to meet with them.

John couldn't stop a slight grimace crossing his face at the thought of that. At least in Pegasus he could usually rely on Teyla or at least Ronon for help with local customs or laws, and so avoid making some awful mistake or insult. There was, at least from first appearances, little chance of them being any help here. Few races in Pegasus had ships like the one alongside, which suggested that wherever they had ended up, it might not be Pegasus. He had no idea who these people were, and quite frankly that worried him.

_You're flying blind_, thought the pilot to himself, as he swiped a hand over the crystals for yet another bulkhead door, and _that was never a good thing_...

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With a loud crackling noise and a stream of bright sparks, the plasma cutter once again came into contact with the metal of the bulkhead. For a few moments more it hissed futilely against the tough alloys and then the Scarren manning the rig shut it down. As the bright light died away, he raised his goggles and surveyed the wall angrily. It wasn't even glowing. The only result of 5 microns of intense heat and directed plasma, were several thin lines of blackened carbon, a half depleted plasma cell, and one completely untouched bulkhead.

Officer Kraztykr was growing more and more concerned. His men, many of whom who had served with him for many years, recognised the signs. Many of them shared their officer's concern. It was taking too long. Their inability to advance beyond this compartment, baffling as that was, was giving their enemy dangerous time to formulate a defence.

Every normal method had failed. Their Kalish technician, a veteran of dozens of assaults, appeared close to crying with irritation. No access panels lined the walls, there were no computer systems to hack into, no door controls to override. Even an explosive charge, placed in the hope of shorting out one of the energy fields, had achieved little more than leave a blackened smudge on the metal. The compartment was bare, a stark shell, a killing ground.

As time had ticked by, and Kraztkyr's agitation grew, they had even attempted to cut through the bulkhead. It had failed utterly. Speed was life in boarding actions, every second counted. By now security forces should have reached them, would have reached them, had this been a Peacekeeper vessel. _Which begs the questio_n, he thought as he eyed the two bulkhead doors, _where are they?_

"I'm beginning to suspect there's nobody aboard at all," said his second suddenly from by his side, speaking softly so as not to be heard by the rest. Kraztkyr gave a small nod, his thoughts had been running in that direction also. The Stryker's sensors had been unable to penetrate the hull of the derelict. As such, there had been little to no sensor data, save for an impressively high power reading. They had also been unable to detect any life signs. Perhaps the security they currently faced was automated. They had forced the airlock after all, perhaps causing security protocols in the main computer to activate automatically.

As he pondered his orders, his enhanced hearing caught the muttered complaint and insult from one of his men. He let his second in command handle it, as was his custom. A few moments later, after a dressing down that had been impressive in its violence, the slightly battered Scarren was dispatched back to the boarding pod, ordered to fetch a rarely used piece of equipment. It would take him several trips to bring all the components, which even for a Scarren were bulky and very heavy.

As Kraztkyr surveyed the compartment yet again, he reflected the soldier had made a valid point. It was cold. The environmental systems aboard this strange ship were maintaining a far from comfortable temperature for Scarrens. Checking the levels with his armours data-link, he judged the environmentals to be closer to those of a Sebecean vessel, if slightly elevated. Gravity was lighter too than the levels maintained aboard Scarren ships, closer to that of a Peacekeeper ship.

Save for that though, there were few details he had noticed so far that gave any clue to this ship's origins. It was clearly a warship, the weapons systems plain to see along its hull, but the design did not show even close similarities with anything in the Stryker's database. There were no markings or symbols on the outer hull, known or otherwise, and the interior so far was little better. The aesthetics, now he took time to notice them, weren't at least remotely like those of a Peacekeeper vessel. Blue was the colour of preference here, not the red and black he was used to.

Heavily laden footsteps echoed behind him, and he turned to see the previously dispatched trooper returning, laden with a large tripod assembly. As the Scarren disappeared back down the corridor, Kraztkyr eyed one of the glowing energy fields speculatively.

His orders were clear. His primary objective was to determine the origins of this vessel, along with its intentions in this system. Should he encounter serious resistance he was ordered to gather as much information as possible, and then retreat. The Stryker's commander had been quite clear that his own orders were to destroy the vessel, regardless of whether the crew were hostile or not.

Kraztkyr was also only too aware, unlike the rest of his men, that maintaining the secrecy of the Scarren presence in this system was far more important than the lives of one strike team.

Should his crew fail to check in at the appointed times, or fail to return within an Arn of their launch, the Stryker would open fire on the derelict immediately. They had already wasted a quarter of their allotted time. As the the trooper returned, heavily laden with the last component, Kraztkyr surveyed his assembled men once more. Many were close friends, or comrades he had served with for close to 10 cycles. He would obey his orders, but he would not risk their lives.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

**McKay's POV**

Deep in the bowels of the ship, a pair of worried hazel eyes never left the display. Standing practically motionless in front of the primary control panel, the Canadian surveyed the data being fed by the Hydra's internal sensors. Necessity had earlier forced McKay to reroute several of the sensor feeds to show one single display screen. In theory it had been a sound idea, for one man alone could not hope to manage the many different consoles in damage control. Unfortunately, the sheer amount of information meant that the attempt had proved only partly successful.

Faced with an unmanageable amount of data fed to his console, even McKay had been forced to compromise. Now one section of the multi-layered screen showed a schematic of the dreadnaught's outer hull, while the other displayed the status of the Hydra's internal defences in extensive detail. Currently McKay's attention was on the schematic, where a series of red and white dots were superimposed over the plan of the dreadnaughts internal structure.

An outsider would have noticed that these dots, each denoting a living breathing individual, were split into two distinct groups, and that the red significantly outnumbered the white. The red were clustered together, occasionally moving, located in a single large compartment close to the outer hull. The three white dots on the other hand, were moving steadily across the screen in the direction of the other group, pausing now and then as they navigated bulkhead doors. At the present moment in time, only a couple of compartments separated the two groups, and the distance was decreasing steadily.

Every now and then McKay's eyes flicked sideways to check the status of the force fields in the airlock vestibule, as he tracked his team-mates progress towards that compartment. As the minutes had ticked by, his usually rampant paranoia had eased off a little. Over 15 minutes had gone by and the intruders had shown little sign of being able to breech the internal force fields that kept them sealed off. McKay had spent most of that time attempting to synchronise the main systems with the auxiliary sensors, as for some unknown reason a number of systems were not receiving telemetry and data.

While he was thus occupied, Elizabeth had, at his suggestion, kept a close eye on the feed from the internal sensors, acting as Sheppard's eyes and ears. While even Rodney would admit his social skills were limited at best, he had learned on Atlantis that having a task to do helped wonderfully to diffuse tension during stressful situations. In response to John's radio calls, she had relayed regular status reports about their intruders, especially their continued failure to penetrate the inner hull. She had, no doubt, seen through his tactic to distract her right from the start, but appeared grateful for the opportunity to help.

Now though Weir stood by his side, as he once more sat in front the main console. The tension in the room was almost palpable, now that Sheppard and the others were almost at the airlock. McKay's paranoia was also coming back in full force, though after 4 years in Pegasus he was able to hide it.

As the two groups drew nearer together, McKay manipulated the crystals deftly, so the schematic of the outer hull zoomed in. In the new configuration the deck plan around the starboard airlock was shown in sharp relief, revealing each of the 15 red dots that marked the unknown intruders, and the 3 white dots of Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon. Ignoring the latter for the moment, McKay took advantage of the closer magnification to study the red dots, studying their disposition.

4 were clustered around the airlock chamber itself, guards he supposed, while the rest were located in the airlock vestibule. As he watched, the larger group began to move, not forward, for the force fields were still active, but backwards, into the access corridor.

McKay frowned, and leaned closer suspiciously to study the screen better. The cluster of red dots were definitely pulling back, but they were not retreating to their ship as he'd originally thought. Most of them were simply pulling back into the the mouth of the access shaft, but two dots remained in the vestibule, a little way in front of one of the force fields. McKay was no great military mind, he had once almost reduced John to tears of laughter with his attempts at combat hand signalling, but neither was he a fool. Those dots in the access shaft were clearly taking cover from some reason, the question was, why?

When a sharp energy spike was detected in the compartment by the internal sensors, he already half expected it. Moments later came another, and another, followed in quick session by several more. Swiftly pulling up the appropriate data, his suspicions were immediately confirmed. The intruders were clearly firing some extremely high powered weapon against the barrier, attempting to break through. From the data he was getting it wasn't a very sophisticated attack, more brute force than finesse, but it didn't matter. Already warning icons on the display indicated that the emitters were straining to maintain coherency in the field.

He exchanged a worried glance with Elizabeth. She was already holding the radio, clearly waiting for him to tell her how bad things were. "How long will it hold?" she asked.

"The way they're pounding it, about a minute maybe, perhaps two."

"Can you shore it up somehow, divert power or something?"

She saw his eyes go momentarily distant, and then he nodded.

"Do it," she ordered, as she raised the radio headset to her mouth and began to speak.

**Sheppard's POV**

Sheppard slowed, holding up a hand to the others. A dull thudding sound, like someone hitting a tent peg with sledgehammer, was clearly discernable from somewhere ahead of them.

"McKay come in."

The radio crackled.

"McKay what's going on? We're hearing some sort of weird noise down here."

His only answer was static.

Ronon moved up from his position just behind Sheppard, and gazed searching ahead of them, clearly listening intently. After a few moments he turned and looked at John. "Sounds like weapons fire," he suggested. John nodded in agreement. Either that or their guests were trying to physically batter through the force field with their bare hands.

He tried the radio again. "Rodney, Elizabeth, where are you guys, things are getting kind of noisy down here. We're hearing what sounds like weapons fire up ahead, can you confirm?"

Once again there was a loud crackle of static, then silence. He exchanged worried glances with his companions. "Is there a problem with your radio?" asked Teyla. John shook his head. "I don't think the radios are the problem. They were working fine earlier.

"So what are you thinking Sheppard? Jamming?"

"Makes sense," said John, flicking off the safety catch on his P90. "McKay would have contacted us by now otherwise. He's been checking fairly regularly, should have contacted us by now."

With one smooth movement Ronon took out his gun, flicked the charging switch, and slid it back into its holster before the familiar sound of the power cell activating had died away. Racking the slide of his shotgun, he raised the weapon and nodded towards the door. "Let's go?"

Sheppard grimaced, but strode forward, Ronon at his shoulder. He was deeply unhappy with the situation. His inability to contact McKay meant he was now effectively blind to the intruder's movements. Not for the first time, he wished he'd earlier asked Teyla and Ronon to bring a hand scanner from the jumper.

When they reached the end of the smoothly curving corridor, the noise died away abruptly. This did little to ease John's nerves. The words "_the quiet before the storm_" emerged from somewhere in his memory, and refused point blank to sink back to where they'd come from. Doing his best to ignore his growing sense of unease, Sheppard swiped a hand over the crystals on the door control. Recognising the presence of the ancient gene, the main computer once again overrode the lockdown command, and with a soft whirring sound, the doors parted.

Sheppard barely had time to digest that about 10 metres across the hallway lay another pair of bulkhead doors, when the alloy seemed to bulge before his eyes. For a brief millisecond, his confused brain registered a dull glow of white hot metal, before the middle of the doors opposite exploded. White hot shards of alloys not yet discovered to earth science flew outwards, peppering the deck and bulkheads with shrapnel.

He felt the heat of the blast on his face as the shockwave threw him backwards. He fell painfully, his back protesting at the impact, although he knew he was lucky he hadn't cracked his skull on the deck when he landed. A sharp pain in one shoulder made him open his eyes, to find sliver of metal, about 2 inches long, protruding from the fabric of his jacket. Dazed, he lay there, trying to collect his scattered thoughts.

Next thing he knew, John felt strong arms haul him to his feet, and propel him back the way they'd come. A cacophony of noise erupted behind him, shouts, growls, a strange whooshing sound, among all of which he heard the distinct sound of a P90 opening up on full automatic.

Instinctively he hurled himself sideways into the cover of a brace, just in time to see a series of blue pulses flash past, right where he had been moments before.

He stuck his head out for a brief glance, and saw a series of tall hulking shapes advancing rapidly towards them through the smoky air. The smoke from the explosion meant he could discern little of their features, but they were clearly not human. He heard what could only be orders growled in some foreign tongue, and he was forced to duck again as another bolt of blue energy shot his way.

Angrily he swung up his P90 and careful to present as little of a target as possible, returned fire with gusto. He aimed for the chest of the nearest alien, and fired a long burst. The bullets slammed into the creature, pushing it backwards, but appeared otherwise to have no effect. It gave a roar of what sounded like anger, and raised a short stubby weapon in his direction. Sheppard needed no prompting, and threw himself backwards into cover once more.

A bolt of blue energy slammed against the bulkhead just behind him, leaving an ugly scorch mark and crater on the pristine metal. Sheppard swung out again, and this time aimed for the alien's eyes. This appeared more effective, for his target gave a bellow of pain, and clutched its hands to its face. He saw more rounds tear into the wounded alien, and saw Teyla a little way in front of him, looking slightly singed, her weapon spitting a stream of fire.

The alien gave a roar, and stumbled backwards towards the hatchway, arms blindly searching for a handhold. It was hurt, but it did not go down. Other intruders materialised out of the smoke, and John was forced to dive for cover once more as they laid down covering fire. Snatching a look, he saw at least 5 aliens advancing down the corridor towards them.

They didn't charge wildly, he noted, but advanced carefully in a series of rushes, each time with covering fire. Teyla sensibly took advantage of a volley of red pulses from Ronon to scurry back down the corridor, hostile fire flying inches from her. _These guys are well trained, _John thought, _great_, _as if my day could get any better. _

"Ronon" he yelled over the sound of weapons fire, "pull back, I'll cover you" He waited for a shout of acknowledgment from the satedan, then leant out and loosed off a full magazine of 5.7x28mm rounds down the corridor. He did not aim to kill; there was little chance of that, but rather to force the attackers into cover. His attempt was only partly successful, for the armor the aliens were wearing seemed to stand up to the P90's armor piercing rounds disturbingly well. Nonetheless, they were at least forced to stop their advance, and at least 2 ducked momentarily into cover.

That was all the time Ronon needed, and behind him John heard his friend dash nosily back down the corridor, a series of red bolts impacting near the enemy positions as he retreated. The response was immediate, and brutal, the attackers darting forward, seemingly opening up with every weapon they had. Sparks issued from the walls as pulses impacted all around John's position. Squeezing himself as close to the wall as possible he primed a pair of grenades, "_Fire in the hole_" he shouted for his teammate's benefit, and lobbed them towards the enemy.

The grenades were on short fuses, and the explosion came almost instantaneously. Sheppard barely had time to open his mouth so as to equalize pressure, when the shockwave ripped past him. Not waiting to see the effect of the dual detonation, he dove from cover and sprinted low back down the corridor. Ahead of him, he caught sight of Ronon in cover behind a large support strut. Appreciating his friend's taste in defensive positions, Sheppard sprinted for the same cover. He almost made it unscathed, but as he closed the last few metres, another volley of blue pulses streaked past him.

He felt an impact somewhere, then Ronon hauled him bodily into the shelter of the strut. Breathing hard, John ran his hands over his limbs, trying to find some new wound or burn. To his amazement he seemed unharmed. Ronon, who was flat against the bulkhead next to him, shouted loudly in his ear. "Where did they get you?" Sheppard, slightly deafened, shouted back that he was unhurt, voiced raised over the thuds of weapons fire hitting the metal behind them.

Pulling up his P90, intending to load a new clip, his nose detected an odor of burning plastic and hot metal.

To his shock, he saw that there was a smoking impact crater on the side of the weapon. It was clearly useless, the mechanism fused together as if with a blowtorch. Clearly the shot meant for him had hit the rifle instead. The weapon had saved his life, but if the chamber and clip had not been empty, the bullets in the magazine would probably have exploded on impact anyway.

Wincing at the thought of an explosion so close to his chest, he discarded the useless carbine, dropping it to the deck plates. "I need a weapon, he yelled in Ronon's ear" The Satedan nodded, and gestured for Sheppard to take the two belts of ammunition slung across his chest. The SPAS-12 hung discared over the Satedan's shoulder, clearly it had proved little use against the thick armour of their attackers. Ducking into cover momentarily, Ronon instead un-slung the (figuratively) light machine gun slung across his shoulder, and handed it to Sheppard. As Sheppard safed the weapon and opened the feed tray, he wished that Ronon had brought a magazine box for the SAW, instead of just loose belts. _Damn movies, _he thought, _Though I suppose that's my fault!_

Sliding the first few inches of the belt carefully into place, so the first round was firmly against the cartridge stop, he checked to see that all was well, before slamming down the feed tray cover. He heard the small click that meant it was locked firmly into place, and began to rearrange the belts, so the ammunition would feed correctly.

A sudden thought stuck him, and turning back to Ronon, who was firing down the corridor, he yelled "Did you fire first?" The Satedan turned to look at him, his face a picture of amazement.

"What?" he yelled back. "Did you open FIRE first?" repeated John.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes!" retorted John, as Ronon tossed him some more clips from his pocket.

"You mean, after they blew up the door in your _face_, you're worried whether we fired first or not?" said Ronon, sounding somewhat confused.

"No, but _Elizabeth_ will be!"

"Oh"

Ronon shot another volley down the hallway. "No, they definitely fired first."

_"Good! Cover me!"_ said John, bringing up the M249 and flicking off the safety catch.

**Kraztkyr's POV**

Krazytkyr was enjoying himself. Finally he had an enemy to fight. No more frelling security systems, no more bulkheads, finally an enemy that he could fight and kill.

He still had no idea who he was fighting of course, but that didn't matter.

So far his squad had suffered no real casualties, save for that fool of newcomer in the second squad. Like a complete frellnik, the idiot had charged ahead, and got a volley of slugs for his trouble. He was still alive, more's the pity, but he would probably never see again.

This ship's defenders weapons were primitive, almost laughable. Slugthrowers, no one had used slugthrowers in thousands of cycles. The armour he and his men wore was designed to withstand far greater impacts. The people wielding them looked Sebecean, but what Sebeceans wielded primitive slug throwers instead of pulse weaponry? There was however at least one modern weapon among them, quite a powerful one too. The red energy pulses had come dangerously close to penetrating his armour's energy absorbing matrix on several occasions. Curiously, the weapon appeared handheld, yet more powerful than a pulse rifle with the chamber on the highest setting.

Laying down covering fire, he watched two more of his men advance down the corridor. It appeared designed to provide defenders with cover, and attackers with little to none, but he clearly outnumbered the defenders and it showed. So far he had seen only 3 soldiers, _where were the rest_? There had been more than enough time to assemble a larger force. Were they scouts, sent to investigate the cause of the security alert? Assuming they were, they must have already discovered that they were unable to contact their colleagues. The multi-frequency jammers built into his men's armour would ensure that.

Whoever they were, primitive weapons or no, they were clearly well trained. Due to accurate and heavy covering fire, not one of his squad's shots had hit what Krazytkyr took to be their leader, when the male had retreated openly down the corridor.

Ahead of him he saw a head lean from cover, pointing something, and as the Scarren officer raised his carbine to fire, he saw something impact on the flanks of one of his advancing soldiers. The Scarren staggered, as a hail of slugs tore into the armour. It did not penetrate, but when the marksman switched aim, and redirected his fire towards his soldier's head, Krazytkyr opened fire.

The head ducked out of sight, and ahead of him the two forward members of his section opened an accurate cover fire on the defender's positions. Using this cover fire, Kraztykr and the two other Scarrens in his section hurried forward, leapfrogging the forward two members to form a new covering party. They were nearing the end of the corridor now, the enemy steadily retreating before them. Ahead lay a bulkhead door, clearly the defender's destination. It looked just as thick as that they had just destroyed, which was concerning. Breaking through the force field and hatch on the highest setting had depleted the power cell of their pulse cannon almost to nothing. If they managed to withdraw beyond that hatch and close it, the defenders would be safe from him and his men.

Just as he was going to order a charge, regardless of casualties, one of his soldiers growled a warning. Two small shapes flew towards him, more of those annoying explosive charges they had encountered earlier. They were primitive, but should they land too close he knew they could possibly hurt him. Accordingly he tucked in as close as he could to what little cover was provided by the bulkhead.

The devices detonated with an ear-splitting _CRACK_, and he felt the shockwave pass by him. A quick check revealed that none of his men had been hurt, though one of them had a nasty metal splinter in one hand. Scanning the corridor ahead of him, he saw His suspicions were confirmed, for ahead of him he saw the hatchway sliding open, and already one of the defenders was retreating through it. Yelling to his men to charge, he broke into a run.

A shout told him his actions had been observed, and he was forced to duck as a bolt of red energy flew past, right where his head would have been if not for the sudden movement. With a roar of anger and joy of battle, he fired back, loosing half a dozen blue pulses at the male who had fired. He soldier himself back through the hatch, the last of the three, and the shots left a pattern of scorch marks on the metal of the hatch frame.

Careless of his own safety, lost in a red haze of anger and hot blood, he charged through the hatchway after the defenders, and jammed his carbine into the door slide. It gave a screech of rending metal, but he thought it should hold until the rest of his men arrived with stronger supports. Pulling his sidearm, he surveyed the compartment ahead of him; it was roughly circular, with a pair of consoles on either side. There was no sign of the attackers, but another hatch directly opposite was already sliding shut. He hurled himself towards it, aiming to wedge his sidearm into the metal, but the two halves of the hatch slide together with a thud moments before he reached it. With a roar of irritation, he slammed his hand against the metal, and was rewarded with a sore wrist.

The rest of his squad arrived to find their commander pacing angrily up and down in front of the closed hatchway. He angrily ordered them to fetch the brace the jammed hatch, and as they hurried to carry out his orders, Krazytkyr activated his comms. Whatever the hull of was made of, it blocked the signals from their comms as well as scans. To contact the Stryker, he was forced to use the comms array on the boarding pod. After ordering his second in command to bring up his own section to reinforce Krazytkyr's own squad, he also got in touch with the rear guard. The senior of the 3 soldiers assigned to guard the boarding pod listened carefully as Krazytkyr outlined his message to be relayed back to the Stryker, and acknowledged the order to send up the squad's Kalish tech.

Krazytkyr eyed the two consoles on either side of the room. Unrecognised characters scrolled across the blue screens, while below each a control panel glowed softly. Hopefully his tech could access these people's systems, and override the door controls to that dammed hatch.

**Sheppard's POV**

Sheppard's radio cracked. "_ard...are...recieving..."_

John grabbed it, "Rondey, where the hell have you been."

The radio fizzed again, and the static suddenly dropped away. _"...jamming of some sort, I've only just managed to break through. Are you guys alright?"_

"We're fine Rodney, bit battered but nobody's hurt badly." Which was the truth, though Ronon had just pulled the splinter from John's shoulder, which had hurt like a bitch, even as the wound closed behind it. "How did they get through the force field?" he demanded.

"Some kind of energy weapon, not very advanced but it hits like a sledgehammer. That hatch you guys are standing behind won't be much help."

"Gee you think." Sheppard's tone was glacial. "Can you do anything to stop them McKay, our bullets just bounce of these guys. Better still; tell me what they're doing back there?"

There was a pause, presumably as Rodney checked his sensors, "_they're mainly clustered around next door and in the corridor, but there's still a bunch of them by the airlock, guards i guess. Stand by."_

"Stand by for what McKay?"

"_I've just erected force fields; the guys next door are sealed off from the rest"_ came the reply. "_Oh, this is ... interesting."_

"Define interesting McKay?" said John, slightly exasperated.

"_Check the console to your left." _Came the reply. John turned, and saw a console he hadn't noticed on the bulkhead to the left of the hatch they had just sealed. The screen flashed on, and clearly at Rodney's direction, switched to display a sensor feed of the entire deck. Red dots displayed the position of their enemies, about 8 of which were in the room beyond. John noticed a 9th dot in front of the hatchway into the compartment from the far side. Whoever it was had obviously been about to enter the compartment when McKay sealed the room.

"What's interesting about it McKay, queried Sheppard, "you managed to get nearly all of them in one room, so what?"

"_Yes, but it's not just a compartment, it's much worse. It's a trap built into the ship's design by the Ancients."_

Sheppard's depressed spirits perked up somewhat at that. "What kind of trap?"

"_It's pretty nasty, from what this screen is tell me, there's a weapons system in there, if I activate it..,"_ McKay's voice faltered slightly, _"Sheppard it'll leave nothing left alive_."

"_John" _Elizabeth's voice came over the radio now "_What shall we do?" _He grimaced, but understood what she was asking. She wanted his opinion, and he sensed she was already aware of what he thought. "Elizabeth, these guys attacked us, not only that, but they fired first. They boarded the ship and blew a hole in the hatch."

" I can understand that if they thought the ship was derelict, hell, we might do the same in their circumstance. But as soon as they saw us, they opened up with everything they had. I've no idea who these guys are, but bullets just bounce them, and they really don't seem the best conversationalists."

There was a brief pause, and in the silence he glanced at Teyla and Ronon. Ronon nodded at him, and after a few moments so did Teyla. They agreed with him, although Teyla was obviously a bit reluctant.

"_So what do you want to do?" _came Elizabeth's sombre voice. John answered immediately, voice firm. "We've got to kill them. They'll just keep coming, and there are far more of them than us."

"_And the others?"_

He didn't reply, letting her draw her own conclusions. There was another pause then, "_Ok John, do what has to be done."_

"Alright McKay, do it." He ordered.

"Doing it," came the terse reply.

There was soft whining noise from next door, like some great weapon charging up to fire. All eyes in the corridor, and presumably far away in damage control, never left the sensor feed. No sound was heard from the attackers, but on the screen, they saw the little red dots wink out one by one.

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He ran, ran like he had never run before. Though not a soldier, even though he carried a weapon, he was a combat veteran, and his instincts were telling him to get off this ship and as far away from it as possible.

He had been just about to enter the compartment when the force field had activated, a shimmering barrier of the blue between him and the open hatch. He had been that close to dying. He had watched the troops inside react, watch them realise they were trapped, helpless. For a few moments more he had stood there, watching the scene inside, as the Scarren officers yelled at their men. Officer Krazytkyr had walked over to the open hatch, and glared at him. He had tapped his comms unit, but no signal had penetrated the compartment. He knew he should try hack the door, knew he should go get help from the boarding pod, but he had frozen. He, a combat veteran of dozens of attacks, and 12 cycles in service, had frozen.

Then the killing had started. From the ceiling of the sealed compartment, had dropped two devices, weapons systems of a kind he realised now. Before the Scarrens could react, they started dropping, weapons falling to the ground around them as they fell. There was no noise, save for a soft whining, like the background noise in a generator room. Krazytkyr had toppled forwards against the force-field, his armour sparkling as the energy barrier came into contact with it, until he slumped in a heap at the bottom, lifeless.

Then he had run, then had turned and run like his life depended on it. Whatever this ship was, he was no longer interested in it. He wanted to live.

He ran for the airlock, for the safety of the boarding pod, past the shattered doors and down into the long corridor that lead to sanctuary.

The soldiers on guard raised their weapons as he approached but he yelled at them, screamed at them that they had to get off this ship right now. They didn't move, but when he shouted at them that the others were all dead, then they reacted. When frantic radio calls to Krazytkyr and his second in command produced nothing but static, they too began to panic. When he told them how Krazytkyr had died, they broke, and piled aboard the boarding pod. Taking the controls, with the speed of sheer terror he disengaged the boarding clamps and powered the engines. The pod groaned, as it pulled away from the hull of the black ship, and swung sharply around, heading like a bat out of hell for the safety of the Stryker.

**Styker Assault Ship, (Scarren Empire Designation: Classified) **

On the Command deck of the Stryker, her Captain leaned against his console, surveying the ship displayed on the forward portal. He'd been able to do little over the last 40 microns save study the scant sensor data they had on the vessel, and keep a wary eye out for any other ships entering the system that might report his ship's presence.

The Bridge of the Stryker was cramped and functional, as befitting the ship's role as an assault ship. Much of the ship's hull was taken up with fuel stores, weapons installations, and other essential systems, leaving little room for crew quarters. A sizeable hanger, able to fit 2 medium size boarding craft and a shuttle completed the picture. His vessel, which he had commanded for 9 cycles, had a crew of less than 130, of which 35 were assault troops to man the boarding pods.

The captain and his crew had been transferred in system 2 cycles, the attack ship and the four others made up their squadron concealed inside the gutted cargo holds of an enormous supply ship. Since then the need for secrecy, for interesting questions would be asked if a short range Stryker was spotted out here, had meant that save for bare minimum of training necessary, the Strykers had remained docked on the moon's surface.

The captain was enjoying the change. He was mightily bored of the company of Kalish engineers and poor quality raslack. He and his crew were elite, forged in constant raids and skirmishes with the Peacekeepers along the main border. The crews of the five Strykers that made up the supply stations only mobile line of defence were all veterans, chosen specifically for their experience and skill.

Those same hardened veterans were growing less than happy with having nothing to do but babysit a load of superior Kalish engineers and make do with the few females on base. Already was growing increasingly difficult to maintain discipline between the garrison of the supply base, and the crews of the Strykers, for the latter viewed the former with deepest contempt. Several members of his own crew were already under sentence, only commuted due to the importance to the defence of the facility. Hopefully this mission would help ease the grumbling, though he doubted it. If nothing else, he was looking forward to giving his gunnery team some practice, even if it was only a dead hulk. It would not be a worthy kill, a defenceless ship, but orders were orders.

It would be a pity though, he thought as he eyed the long black shape on the viewing portal. While he would never admit to liking a non Scarren vessel, he had come to appreciate the brutal lines of the unknown warship. The many as yet unidentified weapons lining her hull made no bones of her purpose. There was something menacing about the blackness of the hull too, it was the colour of a stalker, an ambusher. This was a ship designed purely to kill, not to hunt or fight fair. He was heartily glad it was derelict. He would pit his Stryker and his crew against 3 similar Peacekeeper vessels and be sure of victory, but this ship outmassed his own by a factor of 6.. He was aggressive, both by nature and profession. He was a veteran commander of an attack ship, an officer of the Scarren Imperium, the supreme race in the Galaxy, but even his species hot blood cooled at the thought of taking on an enemy vessel that size.

He pondered thoughtfully how derelict or damaged the derelict actually was. It clearly still had power, and while its engines weren't active, it wasn't drifting either. The last report from Officer Krazytkyr reported no signs of battle damage in the interior, and that they had made contact with what was presumably the ship's crew. The report had spoken of light resistance, and rapid progress forward. It was ten microns before the boarding party was required to check in again. He checked his console, Krazytkyr had less than 25 microns, or the Captain would open fire and destroy the derelict. It was fortunate that the vessel still apparently had an active power source, in his experience a couple of shots into an active reactor was the most effective means of destroying a vessel this size. He had once caught a Peacekeeper Vigilante with that trick, holing the larger ship's reactor and destroying the ship in fireball before its crew had detected his approach.

He grinned cheerfully at the memory, he had still had a fragment from the Vigilante's hull set on his cabin wall as a trophy. The Vigilante had still only been a little more than twice the size of his own ship however; this vessel was at least a metra long. The explosion would be glorious.

His thoughts were interrupted by a shout from his sensor officer. "Captain," growled the officer, "the boarding pod has detached from the derelict and is proceeding towards us at maximum speed."

"What?" growled the Captain loudly, "Why didn't Krazytkyr report this? Status of the derelict?"

"No change sir!" reported the officer "no sign of weapons charging or engine power-up."

"Contact the transport."

"Krazytkyr what the hezmanna are you doing, report status!"

It took him a few moments to understand the garbled words that came back over the open comms channel." "_SPEAK SCARREN,_ he growled, for the soldier at the other end had reverted to an obscure dialect of his own language, for which translator microbes were useless. The Kalish sounded terrified, but recognising the voice of his commander, switched mid sentence to Scarren.

"_... all dead, they're all dead, Krazytkyr dead, saw him die in front of me. Saw them all die, drop to floor, dead, dead. Peacekeepers, looked like Peacekeepers." _The words dissolved into another torrent of curses and half garbled Kalish."

The captain wasn't listening any more, at the word _"Peacekeepers," _he had hit the combat stations alert on his console. Weapons systems that had been on standby immediately began to power up, and deep in the engine room the technicians increased the reactor output to combat levels. The lights around the dim room grew brighter, as the engineers abandoned any attempt at EMCOM, already the reactor output was at 80, and all that energy was being fed to sensors, engines and weapons.

"Energy spike from the derelict, they're powering engines" came the loud shout from the Scarren at sensors.

"Full power to engines! Get us clear of that ship!" Like a scalded cat, the Stryker darted forwards, pulling away from its earlier position concealed in the sensor shadow of the large ship. Engines screaming, her helmsman pushed her into a curving dive that would take her on a diagonal bearing towards from the enemy vessel, presenting as little target as possible. The helmsman was gambling, he knew that at this range there was little chance of avoiding being hit, but there was the slightest chance the enemies ventral batteries were less numerous. Most races used the same fields of fire, and the lower hull of a vessel was typically in his experience the least well armed.

Unfortunately for him, the Hydra's designers had arranged her fields of fire carefully. Of the 8 heavy turrets positioned along the Hydra's ventral hull, no less than 4 were able to lock on and target the escaping Scarren ship. It was a credit to the Strykers helmsman that the first volley from turret number 1 portside actually missed, but the sheer volume of fire compensated for any issues of accuracy. Each mounted 4 heavy pulse plasma cannons in a quadruple mounting, designed to punch through the tough bio armour of Wraith vessels and keep on punching, inflicting maximum damage inside the hull. The effect on the Stryker, whose armour was largely sacrificed for speed and manoeuvrability, was somewhat akin to firing a shotgun at a piece of tissue paper. The comms officer of the Styker just had time to send an emergency burst transmission, when his world went black.

Most of the dreadnaught's fire impacted on the forward hull of the Styker, which didn't so much explode as disintegrate. Many of the highly charged plasma bolts, designed to target far larger vessels, actually passed straight through the Styker's hull, unobstructed by armour, fuel tanks or bodies. The ship appeared to shudder and then, with an outpouring of gases and debris, it broke it two just aft of the engine room. The mangled forward section maintained its momentum, and drifted free of the smaller aft section, which was largely intact, and was the only section of the hulk that even looked remotely like a ship anymore.

The last few bolts of plasma to leave the Hydra's guns before they cycled down impacted on the mangled forward hull, burrowing deep, and found the overcharged reactor. There was a bright flash and the hulk vanished. The subsequent shockwave, which rippled harmlessly over the Hydra's shields, tossed the blackened aft section tumbling through space, and also picked up and hurled a small boarding pod end over end, knocking its occupants senseless.

A shadow fell over the slowly tumbling pod, as the great black ship's engines glowed softly and it swept into a graceful turn, heading for the newest contact to enter that barren system.

**End Of Chapter 3b**

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Well there you are, hoped you like it and that the length made up for the delay somewhat. Next chapter involves the Hydra and two Scarren dreadnaughts, which will be, interest (EVIL GRIN). Oh and there are some author notes on the way to give you some background so those should be here fairly soon. Please if you've taken the time to read it then **NOW REVIEW**


	11. Chapter 3c

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**As always, neither Farscape or Stargate Atlantis Belong to me.**

**Thanks for all the Wonderful reviews, now in reward for your patience, the final part of chapter 3.**

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**The Others Chapter 3c**

Sheppard sat quietly: watching the shattered remains of the alien ship tumbling away on the sensors. He was breathing hard, his lungs sucking down oxygen, for his heart was still beating fast from the adrenaline of combat, and the gruelling dash from the transporter cubicle to the bridge. As soon as the intruder's craft had begun to undock, alerted by McKay, the three of them had run for the bridge.

As he surveyed the slowly dispersing debris cloud that was rapidly falling astern, Sheppard couldn't help but wonder if he'd overreacted. With the shields up at full power it was highly unlikely the enemy vessel could have even damaged let alone destroyed them. He could have just made the decision to back off, and escape into the safety of hyperspace. Instead he'd destroyed them. Granted the alien ship had been powering up weapons, but had he been under any chain of command he doubted his superiors would have agreed with him.

He had just escalated the situation, and he didn't like it. What was worse, the enemy vessel had had time to send out a brief transmission before his second salvo silenced it forever. He had no idea what had been said, or whether it had simply been an automated emergency beacon of some kind. It didn't matter; in their current situation any signal was potentially dangerous.

Right now his instincts were telling him to run, run far before whoever had received that signal turned up with a bigger and nastier ship. He had already swung the _Hydra_ around onto a course out of the system and engaged the sublight engines at full power. He checked the sensor feeds again, no new contacts, nothing. So where had that ship come from?

At a cursory inspection, none of the planets appeared habitable, and the reduced sensors weren't picking up any structures or space stations. That meant the system was likely uninhabited, so presumably the ship had been a patrol vessel of some kind. That could be good or bad, a patrol ship might be expected to be out of contact for long periods, but they were also usually protecting something important.

He triggered his radio, "McKay, are you in engineering yet?"

"_I'm here Sheppard."_

"What's the status of the hyperdrive? Can we jump to hyperspace yet?"

"_Not yet. The main navigational system is still only partly operational. Until I get it back online the navigational computer can't get an exact fix on our coordinates, and without them we can't plot any course longer than a few light-years for fear of crashing into a sun."_

"So how long do you think that will take?"

"_Honestly Sheppard I have no idea, I've not even had a chance to have any more glance at the relays from the main sensor array. Until we can find somewhere safe to hide so I can find what's wrong and fix it, we can only jump short distances. We're limited by the range of the auxiliary sensor array."_

"Alright Rodney, I'll take whatever you can give me."

"_Understood, it'll be a few minutes before we can jump though, there's still a few things I need to clear up. "_

The radio went silent, and John leant back into the fabric of the command chair, trying to calm his racing mind. They needed to leave this system, but for all he knew, by jumping into hyperspace to another nearby they could end up in a far worse position. At least this system was uninhabited, others nearby might not be. He had no desire to jump out of the frying pan and end up in the fire. Still, he had little choice.

***********

Far astern, on the surface of a moon, crews were hurriedly manning their duty stations, as the crews of the remaining 4 Strykers began to power up their vessels. Already on alert, the Strykers engines were always kept ready for a quick start, and fed power through umbilicals from the docks, it was only took a matter of minutes to bring their reactors from cold to online.

As the attack ships began to lift off, the outpost's powerful active sensors came online for the first time, invisible beams of energy tracking across the vast expanse of space. Fed information by a series of carefully positioned probes, painstakingly disguised inside asteroids and other bits of space junk, the outpost's commander was able to survey a real time image of the entire system. In particular he stared hard at the symbol that represented the unknown ship, already heading out of the system at high velocity.

Of the patrol ship he had dispatched earlier, from which they had just received a garbled transmission, there was no sign. He gazed at the display for a few microts, debating his options. That the missing Stryker had seen fit to violate standing orders and break radio silence was telling. He knew her captain personally, for the highly decorated officer to risk his own life by disobeying a direct order, he must have judged there to be a serious and immediate threat to the outpost. It was for that reason that he had taken the risk of powering the depots active sensor systems. It was a risky course of action, for active scanning was impossible to disguise, which was why the depot had until now relied primarily on passive means of detection.

Even the doziest tech wouldn't miss the sensor sweeps, and swiftly triangulate the subspace scan back to its source on the surface of the rocky moon. He had therefore, just signalled that there was a secret base buried beneath the crust of the small planetoid to any hostile vessels in the system as noisily as if he'd set off a couple of thermonuclear devices in the thin atmosphere overhead. His orders, unusually, gave him full authority to act as he thought best in this matter, instructing him that his priorities were, on pain of execution or worse for failure, to ensure the secrecy and survival of the installation, by any means he thought necessary.

The conspicuous absence of the Stryker from the sensor display, the frantic and cut short transmission and the presence of a large unknown vessel fleeing the system, didn't take a genius to analyse. The situation had changed rapidly. It was no longer a matter of investigating an unknown energy signature, his priority now was to prevent that vessel carrying news of the Scarren presence in this system to the rest of the galaxy.

He gave his orders to a subordinate, who relayed them across the room to the operators on duty at the communications system. At the speed the escaping vessel was travelling, it could only be a matter of microns before it left the system. He half expected the vessel to accelerate faster than light, but to his surprise so far it showed no signs of accelerating beyond sublight velocities. It was quick, especially for a contact that according to the data massed the same as a light capital unit. Few vessels that size could accelerate their bulk to more than .3 of light speed, but this one could, and it was still accelerating.

A Stryker was fast, but for all their speed, the 4 remaining vessels of the defence squadron couldn't match that sort of sub-light capability. In this case though, they didn't need too, for as soon as they achieved a safe orbit, they could plot an intercept course and using their hetch drives, accelerate to cut the escaping ship off before it the left the system. They possessed few facts about the unknown vessel; it was clearly armed, but likely not too heavily. Unless it possessed some revolutionary new drive system, unlikely, then for the ship to achieve the speeds it was travelling; it likely had few weapons or defences, its hull stripped down for speed.

He had encountered similar vessels before, used chiefly for spying and fast reconnaissance. While they usually possessed enough firepower to defend themselves against small craft, their chief defence was speed. More heavily armed than anything smaller, fast enough to escape anything larger, as the expression went. The presence of such a vessel here was worrying, for it suggested that the Scarren presence in this system was known, or at least, suspected. The key issue was however, by whom?

The enormous power spike that had tripped the active sensors could hardly have been deliberate on a spying mission. Since the vessel had remained motionless for over an arn, it must have been some sort of accident, perhaps a reactor malfunction. That would explain why it had not yet accelerated faster than light, its Hetch drives could be damaged. It couldn't be too badly damaged however, not when it was capable of that sort of speed. He only hoped that its subspace com system was offline also. Whatever its mission or origins, the Strykers would hunt it down soon enough. Each captain had experience of this sort of thing, although it would be the first time all four had worked together. They might not have the speed, but they had the experience and the firepower.

As he watched, and waited, the commander's thoughts wandered, as he considered what his superiors would make of the situation. They would not be pleased, of that he was certain. He had been proud to be appointed commander of this outpost, but he knew only too well that the price of any failure in his task was of an equal to the reward for success. He did not even want to imagine his fate, should the squadron fail to prevent the spy ships escape.

***********

**Hull Number 8774/SY776/68D, Uncharted Territories: 28****th**** April 2004 (Earth Date)**

**2 Hour 27 Minutes Post Hydra's Emergence From the Wormhole**

It was massive. From stem to stern it measured close to 5 kilometres in length, and displaced several million metric tons; a creature of death, with a hide of metal, teeth of plasma and raging hearts of fire. Lights glinted on its armour, and from its stern came a mighty glow, as vast engines propelled it across the stars.

It had no name, no title to inspire fear in its foes, not anymore. Its long angular form, tapering slightly to a point at the bluff round bow, bore no name plate, only the freshly painted insignia of the Scarren Empire. It's only official designation was a hull number in the huge imperial archives, which curiously listed the ship's status as decommissioned, being dismantled for parts. It would have surprised a number of senior bureaucrats to find the vessel under its own power, several sectors from where it was supposed to be being broken up.

That was not to say it was the same ship it had once been. Any officer familiar with the outdated dreadnaught class would have immediately noted the massive changes made to the vessel. Like its more modern cousins, the dreadnaught had originally mounted half a dozen heavy turrets, in emplacements down the centre line of the dreadnaught. These four barrelled monstrosities, smaller than those currently in service but still quite deadly, had once formed the dreadnaught's primary offensive armament. Located in staggered barbettes along the upper hull, from right on the bows to a cluster around the squat command tower towards the stern of the ship, the layout allowed the dreadnaught to focus the maximum amount of fire ahead or on either flank, without one turret masking another.

On this vessel though, the forward guns had been retained, but towards the stern the bulky turrets had been removed. Not only that, but the entire stern of the vessel had been remodelled and expanded. On either side of the engines, new sections of hull extended outwards at a 90 ˚ angle, and then forwards, curving back towards the hull. From above it looked as if the dreadnaught was a primitive rocket that had been fitted with a pair of stubby guidance fins. Located atop these "fins" however, and around the base of the stubby command tower, were a multitude of new weapons systems, far smaller than the massive forward turrets, and far more advanced. Bank after bank of double, triple and even quad barrelled turrets covered the "fins", set not just atop the hull, but in defensive emplacements around the mouths of the launch bays, leading to the hangers that took up the bulk of the newly created space.

While the original design was proven to be highly effective against capital or corvette sized vessels, and had thus been carried forward into the next class of vessels, the dreadnaught's tactical design did have a weakness. For all their thick armour, they carried very limited point defensive armament, relying instead on their own small fighter compliment and other vessels to defend them against missiles or enemy small craft.

When the Kalish design team responsible for the first evolution of the design had dreamt up the concept, they had also intended for the ships to operate in unison with smaller vessels, equipped with dedicated anti fighter and missile weaponry. The Emperor was entranced with the brutal and deadly design, but scorned the advice of the vessels Kalish chief designer, stating that Scarrens did not need such vessels, and as such, none of the intended support vessels ever left the drawing board. It was said that that the entire design team were later executed, simply because the chief designer dared to question the decision of the Emperor.

Now another Kalish had attempted to redress the balance. The dreadnaught was a test bed, a prototype, testing technologies newly developed or stolen from other races. Its existence was not a secret, for even allowing for the size and scale of the Scarren Imperium, there were only a few shipyards that could handle vessels approaching 2 metras in length. Perhaps one hundred of these huge shipyard facilities dotted the empire, each of vital importance, for they serviced the vast dreadnaughts, and the dreadnaught fleets held the conquered worlds of the Imperium together. The command of each and every of these huge installations was appointed personally by the Emperor, for brutal experience had shown that he who controlled the shipyards, not the fleet, controlled the Imperium.

For the last one and a half cycles prior to its current voyage into the Uncharted territories, the ship had been refitting in the Kcykarix system, home system of the 253rd conquest fleet. Their name was confusing, for the 253rd had not been involved in any conquering for the last 89 cycles. The formation had been decimated and disgraced during an abortive attack on a Luxan system, and exiled in disgrace to guard an unthreatened stretch of border. The formerly crack unit barely deserved the title of 'fleet' anymore, its numbers were so diminished. It had shrunk through poor maintenance and decay to perhaps a third of its original size, its few dreadnaughts for the most part poorly maintained with much of the unit's lax duties carried out by smaller vessels. In such a close environment, the arrival of a new ship and personnel could hardly go unnoticed.

The Kcykarix system was a backwater, it's aging but extensive facilities reflecting its former status as fleet base on a vulnerable frontier, but as the frontier had advanced, the base had been left behind. Most of the docks were bare shells, stripped of useful material and left to rot. Most of the 150 000 or so fleet members viewed the work on the dreadnaught with nothing but scorn. Not only did they consider the work remotely treasonous, for the dreadnaught was steadily becoming less and less Scarren, but much of the work was being carried out by Kalish. That was nothing unusual, the Kalish had long been the Imperium's technicians, but in their enforced exile, the predominantly Scarren crews of the 253rd had become even more racist and self-superior than usual.

This had actually helped with security, the dreadnaught was moored on one of the outer docks anyway, but the predominantly Kalish work crews avoided the central hub of the station where the Scarrens socialised. Parts and components for the project were similarly stored under heavy guard on the outer docking pylon, far from the main warehouses.

Had the 253rd known that technology from other races was being installed aboard the hulk; they would likely have torn it apart with their bare hands. Scarren mentality would not accept the fact that there were races more powerful and more technology advanced than their own society. Had they known, as fewer than thousand living people knew, that one of the systems being tested aboard was a Peacekeeper derived defence screen, then they would quite likely have opened fire on the vessel themselves.

***********

As the aged ship moved ponderously though space, Chief Artificer Vahna stood on the dreadnaught's wide bridge, monitoring the readings from the ship's mighty reactors. Only two of the three reactor cores utilised by this older design were active, but during the rebuild two of the cores had been replaced with modern reactors. As such the ship was receiving far more power with only two cores than it had with the original three. This had allowed the dreadnaught to reach its current location from Kcykarix in a far shorter time than the original systems would have allowed, but with that came unanticipated problems. The power conduits on this older class weren't designed to accommodate the increased power flow and were thus prone to overloads and burnouts. Indeed it was one such overload that had forced the dreadnought to drop out of Hetch drive and perform an immediate scram on one of the reactors to avert a catastrophic core meltdown.

For the last 6 arns Vahna's engineering teams had been struggling to repair or replace faulty systems all across the ship, including a potentially nasty fault in the main power couplings to engine bank five. The emergency shutdown – while it had saved them from certain annihilation – had caused overloads and burnouts all over the ship, damaging systems which had only recently started to come back online. _Much of the problem_, he thought, _is that this ship is old._

During the refit they had ripped out and replaced much of the original worn out power grid, but to save time they had simply replaced it with newly manufactured but identical out of date components. From the data being fed to him from the ships systems and from his teams scattered throughout the hull, it looked as if the power conduits would have to be completely replaced with a more efficient design. That was assuming we receive funding, or the ship doesn't explode, he thought angrily.

While he admired the vision and technical challenge behind the prototype, he thought the scale of the project too optimistic to be practical. It didn't help that the ship was drastically undermanned, or that she had left Spacedock before she was fully completed. _The work would have been better carried out on a newly built ship_, he thought, but his Scarren 'masters' would never have allowed it. He continued to stare intently at the console, gladly concealing his seditious thoughts behind an appearance of attentiveness. He was well aware that only his importance to the project had prevented his replacement before now. He knew also that should the project prove a failure, he and his engineering crews would take the blame. The secrecy of the project would make ''reassigning' them simple, and he repressed a shiver of horror at the thought of not seeing his partner and offspring again. There was a grunt and a sound of abused metal from behind him, reminding him of the presence of yet another irritation with this project.

A hulking Scarren had slammed a hand down firmly on a malfunctioning panel, the impact causing the flickering screen to freeze into clarity momentarily, before resume its blurred flashing. The Scarren turned his long neck towards Vashna in irritation, growling "_Report Repair Progress_" at him in a raspy bad tempered voice. He was accustomed to the abruptness and overbearing arrogance of the tone, a typical Scarren was bad enough, but this was the dreadnaught's captain.

"The chief engineer estimates it will take at least an arn to finish repairing the damage," he replied, not bothering to disguise the slight irritation in his voice. He'd answered the same question three times previously in the last two arns, each time the answer had been the same. "Repairs are on schedule."

The captain growled, "What's taking so long. I should have you Kalish whipped." He spat out the words, the engineer not bothering to hide his expression of disgust at the foul stench of the Scarren's hot breath. At first, he had behaved around the Captain like he was accustomed any other Scarren, sycophantic and subservient. The technique had served him well in the past, but for some reason his behaviour had only made the Scarren captain more difficult to work with, if that was possible.

"Your insistence that I divert significant numbers of my people to repair the weapons systems has increased the completion time for repairs on the Hetch drive" he retorted angrily "We would have been underway long ago if we'd stuck with my original plan." He knew he was pushing things dangerously, but the anger and irritation of two whole cycles caught up with him.

"If you hadn't pushed the engines so dangerously we wouldn't be in this situation," he continued. "This is your fault not mine!" The Scarren gave a growl of anger, and raised a heavy arm, but Vashna stood his ground defiantly.

"Kill me, and this ship will never move. You'll never get your battle." He said carefully.

The captain gazed at him, anger seething behind his eyes. Due to unplanned drop out of Hetch, they were already several arns overdue for arrival in the scheduled exercise area. The captain lowered his arm, clearly prepared to let retribution wait for another time, and stalked off.

Vashna shivered slightly. The Captain's agitation was understandable, the delay could lose him his position or worse, but perhaps there was something more to it than just that. The captain had been appointed suddenly, clad in the grand but noticeably worn uniform of an officer of the warrior caste. He had never worn the uniform again, which general consensus among the crew was because the dreadnaught was no longer a military vessel in active service, but he wasn't so sure. Because of his position, he had spent some time in close quarters with the captain immediately after his arrival, and he alone had noticed something. The armour and insignia of the Captain's uniform had been battered, almost to the point of shamefulness, especially for a Scarren of such apparent high status. Clearly the Captain had a history, and from his bitterness and the evidence of the uniform, a shameful one.

***********

The captain's name was Karza, nothing more. He was an outcast, disowned by his family, stripped of his clan's titles and honours. No longer was he Captain Karza of the prestigious 27th Strike Fleet, _Born of the fire, trusted of the emperor, conquerors of Notilian cluster_, and dozens of other titles, earned by a hundred generations of his clan, stretching back into history. No, for the last 8 cycles he had just been Karza, _8 cycles_ of exile, on that rock of an outpost, in charge of alien scum and slaves.

But now, finally he had a ship again, even if it wasn't an active fleet vessel. As he had sat in his cabin during the refit, drinking Raslak, he had consoled itself that it was a start, perhaps his chance to get back into the Imperial fleet. But his hopes had seemed to die every time he left the cabin to enter the station, and encountered the traitorous scum of the 253rd. Despite the secrecy surrounding the refit, rumour and gossip had spread amongst the enclosed community of the station, which had only been spurred to new lengths by his arrival.

He only once attempted to mix with other Scarrens, tired of the presence of so many Kalish, but no sooner had he entered the drinking establishment, than all the Scarrens present had begun sneering at him. They called him _weak, traitor_, and many other such names. He had never gone again. Only one name had he not heard, _coward_, but that was only because no one had heard of him. He knew they knew nothing of his past, but to be insulted and mocked by a bunch of drunken traitors, who had turned and fled, that burned more than anything he had suffered since his fall.

He was an outsider, worse still, due to his banishment and court-martial, in Scarren society he possessed less status even than one of the cursedly slow Kalish techs working on his ship. By law he couldn't even own a weapon! Only his patron had ensured his current position had given him back a fraction of his former status and power. To be born with nothing was bad, to be born with everything, only to lose it all, was worse. Karza would not lose it, not again. It was why he was pushing the crew so hard, why he could not stand the idle sycophancy of the Kalish. Their false subservience only irritated him now, something he would have found inconceivable before, and worse still, it just slowed things down. Now he had an opportunity!

His patron had insisted the ship be on station for the trial, and that it had to perform well. His patron had a lot riding on the success of this project he knew, even from the limited briefing he had been given, and so did he. They were to engage in war games with one of the 253rds shabby but still far more modern dreadnaughts, to test the performance of several the new systems developed by the Kalish and installed aboard his command.

Or at least, they had meant to have done so, but due to the engine trouble, the ship was already five arns overdue to have arrived at the remote system in the uncharted territories selected as the site of the tests. That delay was the source of his current ill temper. The accursed Kalish were, micron by micron in their slowness, causing any chance of his reinstatement to slip away.

There had been a combat element to the tests, necessary to test the improved defensive and offensive systems aboard the hulk, and he had been looking forward to showing up the arrogant Frellniks aboard the opposing vessel. It had become almost an obsession for him. He so wanted to dishonour them further, to prove he was superior, for he knew that the technology at his disposal, out of date ship or not, would give him a major advantage in both surprise and raw firepower.

In doing so, he had thought happily, he would have proved not only that his patrons work was justified, but that he was a loyal and capable officer worthy of reward. Now, he was beginning to suspect, that would never happen. He slammed a scaly claw down on a console, the anger and irritation raging through his hot veins, the blow leaving a noticeable dent in the metal. He felt rather than saw the chief artificer's disapproval, and with difficulty restrained a low growl from issuing from his mouth.

A sudden sound issued from console, the offending speaker built into a bank of controls located in a cluster around the captain's throne. The buzzer was loud and irritating, designed to carry above the chaotic sound of battle and the shouting of orders that filled a bridge during glorious battle. Karza stalked hurriedly over to it, and with surprising dexterity hit a button to open the voice channel. As he did so he saw from the display built next the speaker that the internal transmission was being routed from the compartment that housed the consoles and interfaces of the technicians manning the dreadnaughts powerful communications suite.

"Bridge here," he answered.

"_Captain, we're picking up a faint transmission from a nearby system._"

"What kind of transmission?"

"_Definitely Scarren, on a subspace frequency_."

"Was there a signal ID code? Did the source of the transmission identify itself?" he asked, not bothering to hide his surprise. As far as he was aware, his was the only Scarren vessel in the area. They were well off the major shipping lanes, and only their own engine failure had caused them to be here in the first place.

"_Negative Sir. No ID Code, but it's definitely coming from a ship. There's another thing, the message was encrypted, a Scarren Kaish 2 transmission, the system is running it now."_

Karza straightened up slightly at that news; a coded high priority military transmission originating in a desolate and supposedly uninhabited sector of the Uncharted Territories. _What the frell was going on here?_ "If there's no ID code how can you tell it's from a ship?" he said curtly, privately curious.

Military identification codes were highly formulaic, the seemingly random jumble of numbers and letters when run through a strict database in fact clearly indicated from what kind of vessel or facility a signal came from, as well as the rank and signal priority of the commander. Licensed civilian vessels also possessed a less complex equivalent. Signals without identifying codes naturally weren't that uncommon; there were always those who did not wish their identity to be traced, pirates or smugglers usually. To receive a signal without any form of identification code, but whose contents were encrypted in Scarren military code however, that was definitely unusual bordering on unheard of.

"_The transmission frequency Captain. It's being broadcast on a ship to ship subspace frequency. Plus we've plotted the source of the signal, we know almost exactly where it's coming from. At that distance the signal's not powerful enough for an orbital or planetary signal, got to be from a ship. Signal decryption will be complete in 10 microts. We're sending the navigational data to your terminal now." _

The captain twisted his head to gaze at the small monitor built into the console to his right. He blinked as he registered the system in which the signal had originated, and the distance between it and the dot representing his command. True it was only a couple of minutes away at hetch eleven, but beyond the range of what he had thought Scarren subspace communications were capable of without comm. relay station assistance. Located along with several other major systems such as gunnery and sensors in an armoured caisson several decks below the comparatively exposed bridge, communications had been significantly expanded during the refit to house several new banks of recently developed and therefore bulky equipment. Even after the expansion the compartment was still cramped and dark. The senior communications tech overseeing the project had once boasted to Karza that the new equipment had the power to transmit and receive signals at ranges twice that which had previously been possible. _Perhaps it had been more than just an idle boast._

Before he could finish reflecting on the possible advantages of this, the bodiless voice of the comms tech spoke again. "_Decryption complete Captain_, _as per procedure for a Kaish signal, I'm feeding it directly to your station." _

He gazed at the terminal, waiting for the download to complete, inwardly grateful that even if much of the crew were Kalish scientists and techs, he did at least possess almost two hundred experienced personnel, currently manning vital stations such as gunnery, sensors, communications and navigation. The console chimed softly to indicate the download was complete, and the decrypted signal popped up automatically. Karza bent to read it.

He straightened his neck in surprise, and read it again. As he gazed at the letters of the translated signal, he felt a sudden fire ignite in his chest. With ever increasing happiness and hope, he read the signal again; just to be sure he wasn't imagining it! He slammed a hand down on a control, and the dull whooping blare of the call to battle stations rang throughout the ship.

The chief artificer hurried over, his mouth already forming into words of complaint at the disruption of his pathetic schedule. Karza viciously cut him short. "We've received a distress call. A squadron of Strykers is under attack from an unknown vessel. We're going to assist. Bring the Hetch drive online NOW!"

The Kalish was momentarily stunned but he swiftly recovered. "I've told you, we haven't fully repaired the damage yet. If we go to hetch before the drive is fully calibrated the ship could be destroyed," he protested loudly.

Karza dropped a hand to his sidearm threateningly. "It is my _duty_ as a Scarren officer to help. We will take this ship into battle and we'll do it now, or I'll have you shot." he growled, the roar of battle already rising within him.

The kalish was heedless. "_You have no authority to take this ship into a fight. You only command the ship, I am in charge of the overall project and my orders strictly dictate that we..._" he gulped suddenly and fell silent, for the barrel of Karza's pistol was suddenly at his throat.

"You will obey my orders traitor, or I will kill you and find someone else who will," thundered the captain, his eyes blazing. The Kalish was clearly a coward and a fool. What better way to test the new systems than in an actual battle. What better way to show his worth, and regain his honour, than to destroy a real enemy. What was embarrassing a bunch of traitors next to that!

The Kalish looked very scared, but his eyes were still defiant. Nonetheless, he reached for his personal com, and began to give the necessary orders. At Karza's orders, the helmsman eagerly and promptly began to turn the vast ship ponderously onto its new heading, as eager as his captain for the chance to see battle. He was a Scarren, one of the dozen or so aboard, and Karza knew how lucky he was that his patron had provided the extra experienced crewmen to help man the dreadnaught during the exercise.

He turned to the speaker once more. "Tech, are you still there."

"_Yes Captain, standing by." _The tech's voice was steady and perfectly ordinary, as if he had not just heard his senior officer threaten to execute the chief Artificer over the open voice channel.

"Send our ID signal. Inform the Strykers we are on route to assist," he ordered, before pushing the button to kill the channel.

"I've still got workers on the outer hull." Vashna pointed out belligerently.

Karza didn't care, the Kalish was beaten. Vashna was clearly a coward. In fact Karza couldn't have killed him, if he had done so his patron would have had him torn apart, for the Kalish was too valuable, more valuable to his patron than Karza himself. But the Chief Artificer was a coward, and had given the orders the captain wanted anyway, clearly too scared of himself to think properly.

"Better get them inside then, before they fry!" he growled, then gave a vicious smile of amusement as the Kalish shuddered slightly, and hurried to recall his workers before the vicious energies of a dreadnaught's hetch drive charging tore them apart.

***********

A few microns later, the dreadnaught's engines glowed blindingly, and before the vast bulk of the ship space seemed to ripple as a powerful subspace bubble began to form around the hull. The dreadnaught surged suddenly forward, and vanished into FTL, leaving behind more than one tiny space suited corpse to drift forever in the vastness of space.

***********

**Open Space: Uncharted Territories**

**Aprox 15 minutes earlier.**

The Stryker squadron had split apart, having quickly learned the dangers of attacking their prey in a clustered formation. The first defensive shots from the unknown ship had annihilated one of their number immediately, the intensity of the aliens fire forcing the remaining three ships to break off their attack and frantically take evasive action. Now they attacked instantaneously from all sides and vectors, seeking to split their target's fire long enough to get within weapons range.

In addition to a compliment of anti-ship missiles, stored in internal magazines, the squadron's Strykers each possessed a potent energy armament. Each mounted a quartet of heavy calibre pulse cannons, short ranged but very formidable. Their high rate of fire and heavy calibre made them ideal weapons for the vicious little attack ships, their advanced engines allowing them to launch devastating close attacks on larger vessels before accelerating out of range of return fire. It wasn't for the faint hearted of course, but Stryker commanders were masters at launching vicious slashing attacks on unprepared enemy formations. A couple of squadrons of Strykers could and had challenged fleets of larger but less manoeuvrable capital ships. Against slower cruisers or civilian vessels they were lethal.

But the unknown warship was proving to be a far tougher opponent than most. The Strykers had carried out a text book attack, emerging from Hetch drive within 200 metras of the target, and almost immediately launching a salvo of forty conventional anti-ship missiles against the engines of their target, before closing rapidly to enter weapons range. Beyond around thirty-six metras, the plasma bolts rapidly lost cohesion, range being sacrificed for a higher rate of fire. The Strykers crews were quickly learning how much of a problem that was.

The first inkling any of the Scarrens had that they were facing something more than a weakly armed spy ship, was when their prey shrugged of a missile salvo that would have disabled a light cruiser. The next was when, long before they themselves entered energy weapon range, a stream of blue energy bolts tore into Stryker Four and blew it apart. Things from their perspective went steadily downhill from then onwards. It had rapidly become apparent that they faced a _far_ more powerful vessel than originally suspected. The sheer weight of fire being thrown out by a single ship exceeded anything they had previously encountered from a warship of that tonnage.

Abandoning their attack, the squadron had instinctively scattered, each captain attempting to withdraw and reform. Either their opponent's gunnery computers weren't up to much, or they were just poor shots, but all three remaining ships had escaped the terrifying salvos practically untouched.

Unfortunately, however poor the enemy's gunnery might have been, there was nothing wrong with their guns. More than one officer aboard the surviving ships of the squadron shivered slightly as weapons fire continued to streak by them at ranges _far_ exceeding that of any known ship mounted energy weapon. It had been a fixed point in military tactics for almost a thousand cycles that energy weapons were short ranged, with maximum ranges for ship born weapons rarely exceeding more than 70 metras. Beyond that range plasma weapons became rapidly ineffective, the charged bolts loosing cohesion, with most races relying instead on missiles or lasers for long range strikes. Whatever weapon this was, it was new. The commander of the squadron wasn't worried. The bolts of energy being fired from the enemy's batteries were disturbingly numerous and disturbingly fast, but they were also reassuringly poorly aimed. His crews, he thought, could handle it.

_Unfortunately_, reflected the squadron commander aboard Stryker 01 bitterly, as he clung desperately to the arms of his command throne while his helmsman fought to regain control of his ship after a particularly violent evasive manoeuvre,_ I might have been wrong! _His ship bucked violently, a near miss carving a trench along the plating of the Hammond side hull, before the helmsman managed to bring the ship back under control, pitching upwards to dodge the next stream of incoming fire. His vessel was approaching from astern and below of the target, swinging violently from side to side as thrusters fought to keep the attack ship from being hit by the fire from a pair of large turrets.

The remaining two ships in the formation were attacking from either flank, deliberately drawing fire away from his attack on the engines. The tactic was working, but both of the decoy vessels were showing clear signs of damage from the intensity of fire being hurled at them, one leaking atmosphere, another missing half of the starboard weapons fin. Worse still, none of their fire was hitting the target. Every time they fired their weapons impacted on a shimmering silver-white energy field that had so far easily defeated every attempt to damage the hull of the alien vessel.

As he watched, another vicious fusillade erupted from the guns of one of the attacking Strykers, this time lasting several microts. Her captain had clearly spotted the same thing as his senior, and had tried more firepower. It didn't work, the bolts intended to shatter a pair of turrets impacting once again against a previously invisible silvery-white field of energy, well clear of the intended target. It sparkled brightly at the impact, but held firm. The intended target, the pair of turrets which had originally been targeting him, vengefully returned the favour. Rotating on their mountings, they began spitting a storm of blue bolts back towards their attacker, forcing the decoy ship to break off its attack as it was bracketed.

He snarled angrily, half impressed at the wondrous technology, half worried. _Who the hezmanna were these people, and where had they got such amazing technology!_ Thankfully the decoys had done their job, drawing fire, but his situation wasn't much better. To avoid being targeted by a number of currently obstructed turrets, his helmsman was forced to maintain a dangerously narrow angle of approach. Unfortunately, that meant that the remaining turret firing at him had a much easier target. There was little that could be done save jinking the ship up or down or from side to side, and hoping the thin armour held.

They were already approaching weapons range, but as the Stryker roared towards its target, desperately continuing to dodge incoming fire, its weapons remained silent. If they couldn't break through at range, the commander had reasoned after the first attacks had shown the lack of effect of his weapons against the enemy defence screen, close and attack at his heart. Obedient to his steady orders the helmsman dropped the bow slightly, aiming the sharp bow of the attack ship like a spear at the slender form of the fin housing the target's hammond side engines. The ship sped onwards, the great bulk of the target growing scarily fast microt by microt in the forward portal.

30 metras. Maximum range, but still the cannons built into the bow remained silent.

25 metras: The glow of the engines began to fill the screen, the helmsman's throat was parched with nerves and concentration.

24 metras, 23, 22, 21. At 20, a stream of scarlet fire burst from the front of the Stryker, the flash of the bolts almost blinding. The deck plates noticeably shaking beneath their feet as all four cannon in the attack ship's bow discharged. A jet of pure energy seemed to momentarily link both ships together. The scarred commander stared hopefully. He knew from experience that a weak point in defence screen technology was around the engines. Scarren scientists did not know why, although there were theories, but it was a weakness the Imperium's spaceforces had learnt to exploit. The shimmering barrier emerged out of nowhere. He clenched his arm rest, waiting for the plasma to burn through, to rend and scorch. He expected, longed, to see the plasma bolts eat deep into the engine housing, expected secondary explosions. Instead, yet again, the defence screens took the devastating torrent of fire and stopped it dead. It glowed mockingly for several microts, sparkling slightly the points where the Stryker's fire had impacted, and then the view was gone, as the helmsman, alone keeping his head, frantically hauled the ship away from the impending collision,

Main dorsal navigation thrusters, secondary thrusters, emergency and docking thrusters, all discharged violently, pushing the Stryker's nose down. The hull groaned and shrieked with the sounds of overworked metal, as it was placed under extraordinary pressure. The commander had deliberately held his fire until the last minute, trusting in the skill of his helmsman. That trust was well merited; the Stryker avoided a devastating collision with just drenches to spare, skimming their target's hull so close that the previously unidentified shields protecting their target shone a constant yellow at the attack ship's proximity. The heavy batteries of turrets along the larger ship's hull fell silent, either because their targeting systems were useless at such close range, or maybe because the crews manning them were unable to believe that anyone would perform such a suicidal manoeuvre.

For several invaluable microts the alien weapons remained silent, the Stryker unmolested, her commander seizing the opportunity to push his ship into a steep twisting dive away from the larger vessel. Fifteen microts later she was on an almost vertical vector away for their target, so as to present the smallest possible surface towards the enemy gunners.

The tactic worked, for although a mass of weapons fire came close, only two bolts actually connected, inflicting only light damage. Unfortunately, one of them knocked out several of the powerful engines clustered at the Stryker's stern. Several more overloaded, and the attack ship's formidable speed dropped to barely half of its previous velocity. Semi-crippled, her helmsman instinctively tried to avoid further damage, banking the ship clumsily to present undamaged armour to further incoming fire, the sluggish movement a mockery of the ship's previously lithe agility.

A further trio of bolts slammed like hammer blows into the hull, cutting through the armoured hull like it was paper to superheat internal atmospheres and incinerate crewmembers. The fourth bolt of the salvo missed, but the damage was done. The remaining engines died abruptly as the conduits feeding them were severed, the force of the impacts throwing the ship into a dizzying spin.

Entire sections of the hull depressurized explosively, the entire aft section was ripped open, the engine and generator rooms being the worst hit. The forward section was relatively undamaged by comparison, but even so one enormous bolt punched a gaping hole through one flank. In the command deck the force of impact hurled crew out of their seats, the captain hurled against a console with sickening force. A marine hauled himself up of the deck, his left arm twisted uselessly, and staggered to his senior. A quick glance revealed the commander was dead, a further glance at a still working terminal revealed the desperate state of the ship. Almost all major systems were damaged or failing. Engines were gone, weapons were gone, and power generation was steadily dropping.

As he stood there, the sub-officer wondered why the attacking ship didn't finish them off. A quick glance at the patchy data from the surviving sensors supplied the answer. Both surviving Strykers were launching full on attacks on the target, all attempts at evasion abandoned. The enemy vessel had shifted its focus to the bigger tactical threat, and was manoeuvring sharply, trying to bring most of its weapons to bear on one of them, but their speed was making it difficult. Even so, the Stryker's clearly could not last long against their powerful foe.

Staggering over to the communications station, with some difficulty he hauled the dead bulk of the comms officer from where he lay draped over the console. As the dead body slumped to the deck with a loud thud, the wounded Scarren surveyed the console, noting with relief that it was still active, for he himself did not possess the rank to access communications. The flashing data on the console showed that power levels were dropping rapidly throughout the ship. Working swiftly he managed after a few microns to reroute auxiliary power to the still intact transmitters, and sent out an encoded distress call, choosing the highest encryption in the computer.

He wasn't a fool, but neither was he particularly senior. As such, he was unaware of the standing orders strictly forbidding any subspace communications traffic in system. Subspace communications, however advanced were not undetectable. Subspace chatter could be detected at distances of several light years, however weak the signal, and triangulated to determine their point of origin.

To counter this, the ships of the squadron had unknown to him been using secure short range radio transmissions until now, but the wounded sub-officer didn't know that. He knew the installation was secret, the Scarren presence there clandestine. He knew too that should the unknown ship escape, that secret would become known. Unaware that his simple and well intentioned actions would prove to have such dramatic and long term effects on the galaxy, he hit the control to transmit the signal.

***********

**Hydra Bridge**

To describe exactly how Sheppard was controlling the Hydra, went beyond current human understanding. The scientists on Atlantis and the SGC had some idea of course, which had allowed the eventual development of Dr Carson Becket's gene therapy, but that therapy, however useful, was at best a crude solution to controlling ancient technology. The small artificially induced quantity of the ancient gene chiefly served as a key to unlock the gene protected intricacies of most ancient systems, but for those who possessed the gene naturally in strength such as General O'Neill or Colonel Sheppard, it went so much more than that.

Ancient control chairs, such as those utilised in cityships like Atlantis, or defence outposts, like the Antarctic outpost back on Earth, did not in fact possess any apparent physical controls beyond two gel-filled pads in the armrests. They served rather as a conduit, simply put, a neural link between the operator and the systems operated by the chair. It was the operator's mind that did much of the work, joining with the technology allowing mental command and control at speeds that were inhumanly fast.

The Hydra's commander's chair was more practical in design than the seemingly delicate and crystalline control chairs, but it possessed the same form of interface. It was of course somewhat redundant, for in a normal situation, the dreadnaught was run by a crew that numbered in the hundreds, and in a combat situation, the ship possessed dozens of individual weapons stations, not to mention a dedicated drone control chair. It nonetheless possessed the capability to control the entire ship, although the Lantean Captains had rarely exercised it, preferring to use the link to communicate with their crew and other vessels at speeds faster than verbal communication, allowing them equal to superior tactical coordination over the Wraith's own biological means of neural communication. Their job was to command and give orders, not to waste valuable concentration on controlling their ships personally.

The figure currently seated in the Hydra's command chair however, was being forced to do so. The attack of the four alien ships, seemingly identical the one which had launched the boarding party and later been destroyed, had come as a complete surprise to Sheppard. There hadn't been any note of warning from the sensors whatsoever. Not the slightest trace of a hyperspace window, nothing. One moment there was clear space, the next four alien vessels in space directly ahead of him, launching a missile attack. Before he could react, the missile salvo was splashing impressively but futilely against the Hydra's fully powered aft shields. Return fire from the aft batteries in response had swiftly shredded one of their number and the enemy had hurriedly retreated with energy bolts whizzing past their ears. It had been only for a moment however; just time enough for Sheppard to contact and alert the others, before they had come on again.

From the sensor data, is had almost immediately became apparent to him that their still unknown attackers were heavily outmatched. Their ships were small, fast and extremely agile but that was really all that could be said for them. They had energy weapons, rapid firing plasma weapons if the interpretation being fed him was correct, but their fire was splashing harmlessly against the Hydra's shields. Their attackers themselves apparently lacked shields of any sort, apparently relying instead on armour, little protection against a bolt from the Hydra's main ion batteries.

The aliens lack of shields puzzled John. Even in its earliest stages the SGC's Prometheus, slower and less manoeuvrable than these ships, had possessed rudimentary shields inspired by reverse engineered Goa'uld technology. These ships in contrast appeared much more advanced than that, their sleek appearance and energy weapons (which the SGC had only possessed for two years) suggesting a race well accustomed to space travel.

While they posed no immediate threat, their presence was worrying. John guessed they had come in response to the distress call transmitted by the ship encountered earlier. What bothered him was their tactics. These people clearly didn't recognise an Alteran warship when they saw one, not a huge surprise, but even so, their sensors should have warned them that they were seriously outclassed. When he had first seen the Hydra, he had been seriously intimidated. Even without his knowledge of what ancient technology could accomplish, the ship's dark bulk and serried ranks of weapons had struck something deep within him. He was beginning to think these people knew something he didn't. Unless they were suicidally brave, or insane, they must realise they were outclassed.

He wasn't ruling out insane, not after the crazy stunt one of them had just pulled. For a few agonising seconds he had thought the enemy ship was actually going to ram the Hydra, but after yet another attack that had done little more than scratch the shields, it had dodged at the last minute. It had been a close run thing though. Sheppard had seen Elizabeth actually shut her eyes in horror, and he himself had involuntarily clenched at the armrest of the chair, had watched his knuckles turn white.

He wasn't sure if the shields would protect against a ramming attack. He had read of instances in the Milky Way where Ori vessels, whose technology was equivalent to the Hydra's, had withstood ramming attacks from Ha'tak vessels belonging to the Free Jaffa. These ships were far smaller, but he didn't want to find out how much damage they could cause should they choose to ram the larger vessel. At worst the Hydra could be badly damaged, stranding them god knows where in the Universe.

It was partly for this reason, and Elizabeth's insistence, that he was no longer aiming to kill, but to disable or discourage. If he managed to drive them off without destroying them, or at worse disable their engines, then there would be no threat. For several reasons, this tactic was proving difficult.

For one thing their attackers had learnt fast, and were now from attacking from multiple vectors, which was proving a right pain in the ass to deal with. The Hydra's targeting systems were incredibly advanced, but he was only one man, for all his experience of multi-tasking in combat as a pilot and officer. Controlling the ship at the same time as sustaining an accurate but non lethal fire on three different attackers, approaching from three different directions was taking its toll. The concentration necessary to utilise the chair was a bit intense to begin with, right now it was proving decidedly wearisome. It didn't help that he hadn't slept in almost 24 hours. His mouth was dry, and he felt the first twinges of a headache. Just wonderful, he thought angrily, his teeth gritted in concentration.

It was with some satisfaction therefore that shortly after what he guessed to be the lead ship of the enemy formation nearly rammed him, he saw a trio of ion bolts slam into its hull as it tried to draw out of range. Its engines visibly died, and it began to drift, tumbling away out of control. As he mentally swung the Hydra into a turn, opening up the firing arcs for a clearer shot on one of the remaining ships, he saw with satisfaction that while the enemy ship was heavily damaged, life support was apparently still operating. A mission kill then, enough to take the ship out the fight, but not to kill the crew. Hopefully he could manage the same with the remaining two.

_Fat chance John_, he thought bitterly, _with the way your luck is running today, you're more likely to blow them away with a poorly aimed shot_. Another problem with his task was overkill. The Hydra's main pulse arrays were so ridiculously overpowered, compared to the opposition, that even after he had deliberately dialled down their firepower, he felt sure a couple of bolts would physically tear one of the enemy ships apart if they got hit in an unlucky place.

Not that in all fairness he would mind if that happened, for all his unspoken promises to Elizabeth. The idea that concerned him the most was that the tactics of the small ships yapping at the Hydra's heels were an attempt to buy time, to delay him until the arrival of reinforcements.

In that light, 'permanently' silencing their current pursuers made strategic sense. The thought that dozens of ships might be converging on their position, some probably bigger and nastier than those attacking them, which he guessed were scouts, was not one to provoke calm and peaceful thoughts. Especially as even though their tactics weren't actually slowing him down much, they couldn't get the hell out of dodge yet anyway. Rodney was still working on the hyperdrive, for newly discovered damage to the navigation system had forced him to revise his original estimate several times. It was so unlike the scientist to take longer than he predicted that John hadn't pushed the matter, concentrating on the defence of the ship.

While most of his concentration was on tactical and navigation, there was still a corner of his mind free for his paranoia to run full pelt. Their attacker's method of arrival bothered him. The absence of any hyperspace window was bugging him. If their attackers hadn't come from a hyperspace window, where had they come from? When Elizabeth had suggested over the radio that the attacking ships might have been cloaked, Rodney had swiftly stamped on the idea. He had pointed out that _if_ their attackers possessed cloaking technology, then it would have to have been pretty good to get within a thousand kilometres.

The Hydra's sensors, even at reduced capacity, were both very advanced and very powerful. Far more likely, was that they possessed some other form of FTL, which McKay said was possible, if unlikely. The primitive nature of the ship's attacking them, at least in contrast to the Hydra, did loosely support that idea. This brought Sheppard back to his original worries, which proved no more cheerful the second time around. If the enemy did use some other form of FTL, then the Hydra's sensors probably couldn't track it! If they weren't able to track it, then there could be ships converging on his position right now.

Just then a series of ion bolts from one of the forward batteries impacted the bow of one of the two remaining ships attacking them. The ship, which like its companion had seemingly abandoned all subtlety at the near destruction of their comrade, had been less than a hundred kilometres away, weapons spitting, when its helmsman had jigged instead of jagged. It had just been bad luck. Through the Hydra's sensors he saw the ship disintegrate as its reactors were torn apart releasing all their energy at once, and saw the flash of to starboard with his own eyes through the bridge windows. There was no debris. The explosion had entirely consumed the ship. Feeling suddenly tired, John hauled the Hydra around onto her original heading. Astern, the glow at the black dreadnaught's stern deepened, as titanic amounts of energy were expended to accelerate her vast bulk away from the shattered debris her anger had created.

Through the sensors, he was watching the remaining ship still under power. It was out of position, taken aback by the Hydra's sudden acceleration and altered course. Nonetheless its head came around sharply, and with a fanaticism which had him wondering as to its crew's sanity, charged blindly towards him. It opened fire well outside weapons range, and continued to fire, sending salvo after salvo of hatred towards them. He didn't fire back. It couldn't hurt them, it couldn't even reach them yet, but still the salvos came.

Slowly the range began to lengthen. The enemy had the advantage in acceleration, but the Hydra's reactors continued to push her through the blackness at ever increasing speed, and their pursuer just could not compete. She slowly began to drop astern. The range lengthened, but still they fired, and fired and fired. It was madness, crazy and in it's own way, slightly terrifying.

He sat, watching the small dot dropping steadily astern now. With a grimace, he leant forward in the chair, disengaging the link. As the network dissolved, he found himself feeling rather small. He was surprised to find he was shaking slightly. His throat was disgustingly dry, and he wished he had some gum to chew. He wondered idly what he had done.

The volley that had obliterated the first of the attackers had been an instinctive reaction. His nerves being what they were right now, he'd simply targeted the nearest attacking ship and opened up with everything that would bear. Sheppard knew that for that alone he would have been chucked out of the Air force, but at the moment he honestly couldn't care. As far as he was concerned, these people (whoever they were) had tried to board his ship and fired on his people first! From that moment he had viewed them as hostile until proven otherwise, and if not for the presence of Elizabeth on the bridge (and his respect for her experience and friendship) he would swatted them all without mercy. He was an officer in the United States Air Force, a soldier; it was not his job to second guess himself. He followed orders, killed the enemy and did what had to be done to save innocent lives, and tried to avoid awkward moral situations.

He was also a distinguished graduate of the Academy. He was trained to think. Right now, he found himself in circumstances that reminded him disturbingly of that first year in Pegasus. Cut off from authority, forced to make ill-informed decisions that with hindsight could potentially affect the lives of millions. He hated it. He would protect his people; he would get them all home. He promised himself. After that, well, he wasn't going to cross that bridge before he came to it.

***********

**10 minutes later**

John turned his head slightly, observing the slim form of Elizabeth. She was leaning against a console, seemingly staring into the mid distance. He scowled slightly. His anger was not directed at her, but at what see was doing. Or rather, what the replicators had done to her, to allow her to do what she was doing. She was in the ship's systems, watching their pursuer. She had the gene. He leant back slightly, embracing the connection and once again, he could feel her. Somehow he could feel the faint presence of her mind in the network. He couldn't describe it. It felt like, a glow, but that did not do it justice. It felt, strangely comforting. In the empty vastness of the Hydra's network, another mind was strangely comforting. Neither of them understood. Both of them were worried.

They were alone on the bridge, Teyla and Ronon assisting Rodney elsewhere on the ship. They hadn't been there when it happened, something which he could guess Elizabeth was grateful for. It had been an accident, pure chance they two of them had noticed. She had asked him not to tell the others for the moment, and he had kept his word. He was worried about her. She was hiding it well, but he could tell she was worried to.

They were all a bit on edge right now, but with Elizabeth he knew the signs well. He didn't understand it, didn't want to think too much about it. Now he had time to think, he couldn't stop though. They, or at least Elizabeth, weren't just carbon copies. The bloody replicators had done something. Changed her somehow, changed all of them? Used them! They were guinea pigs, mice in some fucking ascension lab project. They were people, and the replicators had toyed with them. He wondered sometimes if the ancients had actually been much better at times.

He felt the bitterness and anger rise within him, and quashed it mercilessly. Now was not the time for it. He gazed at Elizabeth, and wandered what the hell they were going to tell the others. She had the gene; she had never had the gene, the gene therapy had never taken with her. _What the hell had those bastards done! _

He shook of his agitation, and slipped into the ship's network once more. With just a thought he brought up the navigational computer, and grimaced slightly as he got the mental equivalent of an out of order sign. He was still able to pilot the ship, but he was completely locked out of the hyperdrive control systems. He tapped his headset. "Rodney, I don't want to bug you, but how you going with that navigation system?"

"_I'm getting there. It'll probably be another ten minutes or so. Is there a problem?"_

"Not yet. I'm getting a little worried about more visitors though." Sheppard admitted truthfully.

"_Yeh well, you aren't the only one. Hang on a sec, let me try something"_

Sheppard duly waited.

"_Ok, try navigation again."_

Sheppard leant back again, and send a mental command to the ship's systems. With relief he felt the chair link to the navigational computer, something that he had not been able to accomplish a few moments previously. He accessed the hyperspace controls, and attempted to lay in a course. The hyperdrives read as fully operational, as did the control systems. Unfortunately, when he attempted to access the sensors, to choose a destination, the system refused to accept his commands. He knew why. To plot a hyperspace course, one had to know exactly where you were, as well as where you were going. Unfortunately, neither Hydra's computers, nor her crew knew their location, exact or otherwise.

"Good job McKay, I'm back into Navigation. Drives and control systems read as ok, but there's still a problem somewhere with the navigation sensors."

"_I know. I'm working on it now. I have to repair several damaged connections between the sensors and navigation. I don't think I can reroute this particular ones, at least not easily. I don't know where they keep the spare parts so I'm having to cannibalise some spare parts from non-essential systems. _

"What systems?" asked John, slightly suspiciously.

"_Nothing major, but if you must know, I'm pulling them from a set of consoles in one of the Officer's Cabins. You've got to see these by the way, the replicators stocked them. There's lights, mattresses, everything."_

"Later Rodney," said John, "concentrate on the repairs ok. You four can choose cabins later. The captain's quarters are mine."

He shut off the radio, imagining with a small grin the look of outrage surely featuring on McKay's face right now. He wondered idly if McKay had done that deliberately, as an attempt to cheer them up. It wouldn't be the first time. Most people couldn't claim to know the real Rodney McKay. Few save his close friends or those who had been on Atlantis from the beginning were really aware of the good man behind the ego.

"He probably did that deliberately you know?" Elizabeth spoke, seeming to read his thoughts. It was a skill that even after 4 years he still found a little disturbing. He gazed at her as she walked across to him, choosing to perch on a console in front of the Captain's chair.

"Probably" he agreed, leaning back and closing his eyes for a second. The temptation of sleep was strong, but he ignored it.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, sounding a little concerned.

"Tired." he grunted, "Thirsty" he added after a few moments as he felt the dryness in his throat.

She proffered a canteen, which he took with a nod of thanks. The water was cool. It tasted wonderful. He took a few gulps, savouring the liquid then lowered it from his mouth.

"Got to save water," he explained, "at least until we know if this ship has any."

She looked thoughtful. "I wonder if the replicators actually installed plumbing?" she said with a sudden grimace.

John thought about that for a moment. "They've copied the design pretty faithfully in most things" he mused. "This ship is a copy of a Lantean one remember, I wouldn't be surprised if it were identical right down to the water systems. They kept the gene activation remember, and it's not like they need it."

She nodded. It was true. The Asurans did show a remarkably consistency in including bits of technology tailored for biological life in their constructions. He supposed it was something to do with their desire to emulate their progenitors, but he highly doubted that a toilet was the key to Ascension. Whatever the reason, hopefully the Hydra followed the same pattern, and possessed the amenities necessary for human beings aboard. If not, then they were going to have a pretty hard time if they were forced to spend any period of time aboard her. However strong the Hydra's defences might be, she was no good to her crew if she proved uninhabitable.

Weir looked up at him suddenly. "How about food?" she commented with a look of concern. I doubt they stocked that. We can't have much save for what we brought aboard from the Jumpers. We don't know where we are, or how long it will take Rodney to fix the main sensors. We could be forced to live aboard this ship for a while."

"We'll see how much we've got in the way of rations when we've found somewhere to hide. We can always ration it." He pointed out, gazing absently out the bridge windows at the vastness of space slipping by. "Anyway the jumpers are always quite well stocked with emergency water and rations anyway remember." He pointed at her "You made it standing orders after Bates team got cut off for a week and had to live on bugs."

Or rather, the other Elizabeth had, but he didn't say that. It raised a smile though, as he had hoped, the two of them remembering with amusement the expression of disgust upon the tough Sergeant's face following his team's return. By John's count, the man had spent almost 2 hours washing his mouth out after his teams return. Well, after he had reported in anyway. Good man, if a little security obsessed.

The nickname 'Garibaldi' had done the rounds for a good few months after the nasty incident with Teyla, much to Bates annoyance. It hadn't helped when Teyla had demonstrated her telepathic abilities due to Wraith DNA, considering some of the hardcore Babylon 5 fans among the scientists. Carson's report had been particularly amusing on that score, for neither Elizabeth nor himself would ever have labelled the down to earth Scotsman as a sci-fi fan.

He shook his head slightly, stupid to get distracted, day dreaming like a teenager. He was wasting valuable time. Concentrating, he ran a systems check, reviewing the state of the ship. As he had expected, the ship proved to be in much the same condition as it had been prior to the enemy attack. The most serious probelm, after the dodgy sensors, were the malfunctioning internal communications systems but that was about it. A damaged airlock and innumerable minor faults to secondary systems completed the picture. All in all, the newly christened Hydra had come rather off well, considering the baptism of fire she had suffered over the last day or so.

Every weapon, battery, and individual turret registered as fully operational. The shield emitters were cycling properly, bleeding off energy absorbed during the attacks; all shield control mechanisms were fully operational. Those emitters on the lower hull aft were registering minute signs of strain, but automatic repair systems and backups were already engaged, even though every reading was well inside acceptable tolerances. Only the drone launchers were non-operational, firmly powered down. He had decided early on anyway to try save the irreplaceable and deadly projectiles, but damage control systems also reported a fault with the targeting element of the launchers.

Apparently, like so much else aboard, the damage to the sensor feeds had had repercussions. He wasn't sure how serious the damage was, but until he was sure, the drones were firmly off limits. He had no desire to experience a misfire or something similar, not with firsthand experience of just how deadly even one drone could be in the wrong place. Once they were fixed though, they had a lot of them to use, he saw, checking the magazine figure and whistling softly. The bays were packed with tens of thousands of drones, enough to replenish Atlantis and Earth's stockpiles significantly and still leave several hundred for the Hydra herself.

Elizabeth heard his whistle and gave him a questioning look. "We're stocked," he said, answering the unspoken question. "We've got a full load of weapons, enough drones to replenish earth and Atlantis's stocks significantly. And that's not all"... he said, still burrowing in the ship's computers. "We've got a ton of stuff aboard; the cargo bays are full to the brim."

"What were they planning?"

"Not sure, but seeing as we've apparently got a Milky Way configured Stargate and DHD stowed somewhere, I'll let you make your own conclusions." He said with feeling. "Have a look yourself," he said gesturing to the console she was seated at. It was a gunnery station, but all consoles gave access to the ship's databases.

She nodded, swivelling in her chair to face forwards, and placed her hands on the crystal interfaces in front of her. Sheppard felt the new current in the network, could subtly trace her presence through the ship's systems. Frowning with concentration, he tried something out. Concentrating on the glow of energy that was her mind, he thought intently of 'sending' the data about the ship's cargo bays to that glow. She spun in her chair, one hand still on the interface, and looked up at him. She was smiling.

Encouraged, and more than a little amazed, he thought of a conversation he had listened too between McKay and Zelenka in the Cafeteria. Concentrating, he imagined using a radio. "_Elizabeth" _he thought, still feeling a little sceptical. The reply when it came made him jump slightly.

"_Not So Loud!" _He looked up, eyes slightly wide, knowing full well that it wasn't his ears that had heard that. She was looking at him, her features composed, but after a few moments she cracked, and grinned. He realised his mouth had fallen open slightly, and shut it hurriedly. "I think you're concentrating too much" she offered aloud, "you don't need to shout." He was gaping again. He felt a little foolish. Ok it wasn't something completely new, he had used ancient technology for years, was used to the neural links in the Jumpers and Atlantis. Presumably this was that taken to its logical extension. He had never done anything quite like that before though. _Very Cool_! Even after four years, Ancient technology could still surprise him. He tried again.

"_How about now?" _he tried, trying to concentrate less.

"_Better_" he heard in his mind, as Elizabeth nodded at him. It was, he thought, more than a little strange to see her nod as if answering a question, but not actually 'hear' anything. He swallowed suddenly, as a horrible realisation struck him. She was acting far too calm, as if she'd done this before. How did she know how to do this? She couldn't have learnt from her memories of Atlantis, to the best of his knowledge Elizabeth had never once used the chair.

She must have noticed his grim look, and the smile in her eyes died slightly. "What is it?" she asked. He ignored the question. She leant closer. _Oh god, what was he going to say_?

"Nothing" he said, knowing even as he said it that his tone wouldn't have fooled her. He raised himself stiffly out of the chair, brushing rudely past her, and without thinking descended the few steps to the fore section of the bridge. He stopped at a random console, his hands clenching on the back of the chair, and pretended to study the crystals. He heard her follow him, had known she would. She faced problems. Elizabeth had always faced problems. But was this Elizabeth? He cursed himself, but the thought hung in his brain, refusing to be forgotten. He thought she was, his instinct told him she was, 'but what else,' whispered his treacherous mind.

"John" she said.

He said nothing

"Colonel what is it?"

He felt a dart of grim humour at the use of his rank. He wasn't John Sheppard; he wasn't the military leader of the Atlantis expedition. The rank was no longer his.

"John, talk to me?" she said again, and he caught the faint trace of worry in her words now.

"Nothing! Just feeling a bit overwhelmed," he mumbled.

There was silence, and he wondered if she was looking at him, but he kept his eyes firmly on the console. He tried to lose himself in the soft beauty of the crystals, the regular patterns of the controls. He wanted her suddenly to leave, felt the shame in that, knowing she was just trying to help. She gasped suddenly. _She's guessed _he thought numbly, still refusing cowardly to look around, to face her hurt expression.

At that moment there was a dull rumbling roar and the ship suddenly shuddered violently. Caught by surprise John and Elizabeth staggered as their bodies were pulled sideways by the momentary loss of gravitational stability. Automatic alarm klaxons began to sound and the sensors screamed a warning.

***********

**Hull Number 8774/SY776/68D, Uncharted Territories: 28****th**** April 2004 (Earth Date)**

**2 Hour 51 Minutes Post Hydra's Emergence From the Wormhole**

The dreadnaught shuddered, her hull tensing dangerously at the force of the violent reversion to real space. The overtaxed drives strained to maintain the entry envelope, the damage suffered earlier making the process far more dangerous and rough than usual. On the bridge Karza watched, his eyes red with anticipation, his breathing deep and fast, as his race's biology increased the flow of blood this brain and adrenaline in his veins. The natural process had been altered, cycles ago, genetically improved like all Scarren soldiers to dramatically increase his strength and reaction speed. It was an amazing feeling, although some clans privately tampered with their biology to dangerous levels, making their members almost undefeatable on the battlefield, but dangerously quick to anger. Not all the myths of Scarren brutality and viciousness were Peacekeeper propaganda.

Karza's clan were not so foolish, they would not have risen so high in politics otherwise, but even he felt the rush, and longed to unsheathe his claws against an enemy face to face. As the ship shuddered, before his eyes the blurred view of normal space vanished as the ship dropped out of Hetch, resolving into the normal star studded ocean of blackness.

"Scan the system," he growled, "standby all weapons batteries."

Ahead of him along the hull he saw the ship's remaining heavy turrets move. Rising slightly from their locked transit positions, they began training slightly from side to side as the gunners tested their systems.

Just as the report of all weapons fully manned and standing began to filter back from tactical control, the sensor technician reported a contact.

"Unidentified Vessel detected, bearing Hammond 80 degrees. Contact's current heading at Treblin 84 degrees relative. Current Range 117 metras, and decreasing."

"Type of vessel" demanded Karza, his eyes on the tactical plot. The unidentified alien ship was moving fast, very fast in their general direction, on a course to cross their bow. At the speed it was travelling, it would be within extreme weapon range in less than 25 microts.

"Alter course," he barked at the ship's pilot, not waiting for sensors to come back to him "bear 075 degrees Hammond, ship's head down 20."

Slowly the dreadnaught began to alter course, then quicker and quicker as the bow thrusters helped push her around, while her nose dropped 20 degrees towards the plan of elliptic. She was several kilometres above the 2 dimensional plain emanating from the sun utilised by navigators to judge positions in planetary systems, and the move dropped her nose towards her target, allowing most of her gunners to track the target.

"Forward batteries report locked on target, ready to fire." Came the report from gunnery, but Karza ignored him. They were still just outside weapons range anyway, but not for long, frell that ship was fast.

"Identity of unknown vessel," he roared at the sensor station again, his mind still fairly clear despite the hot burn of battle lust in his veins. He wasn't going to shoot down a potentially allied ship.

"Ship type reads as unknown warship. Not match to our databanks, not a known enemy vessel."

Karza growled, and was about to throw something at the sensor officer, when a cry came from communications. "Captain, we have contact with one of our Strykers. Contact is hostile, definite hostile, must be destroyed at all costs."

"OPEN FIRE" he yelled at targeting, and saw the first fabulous bolts of red fire spit from the fore turret, as it tried a ranging shot. The target was bearing off their treblin bow now, his orders allowing his gunners a far easier target of the than attempting bows on shot. Then all three of the massive quad turrets stretching along the foreword hull fired almost instantaneously, firing double salvos of twin plasma bolts as both sets of barrels cycled. He watched the bolts in, and saw with glee that the enemy was making no attempt to evade.

***********

**Hydra Bridge**

Sheppard frantically tried to regain his balance, his head jerking up instinctively to stare frantically around. As he grabbed frantic hold of a handhold on the console, his eyes flashed to the forward viewports. He was just in time to see an enormous bolt of crimson energy impact on the shields directly in front of him. He flinched instinctively, but the shields did their magic. He watching spellbound for a couple of seconds as more bolts splashed heavily across the forward shields, which glowed a silver-white as they absorbed the fury of the alien weapons, though the shockwaves where another matter as the Hydra continued to shudder violently with the strikes.

Snapping out of it, he traced the source, hanging on as the ship shook at each and every impact, his sharp eyes following the fierce salvos off to port. The brightness of the bolts against the darkness of space meant he couldn't see much, but what he did see was not encouraging. He stumbled backwards, bumping accidentally into Elizabeth, who gave a cry of pain. He ignored her, running to the bridge chair. Another jolt made him bang his knee painfully on a console, before he hurled himself bodily into the embrace of the Captain's seat.

A flood of information descended on him, as in milliseconds the ship told him everything that was going on. He immediately altered course, attempting evasive manoeuvres. Then he returned fire. He held nothing back this time, made no attempt at damage limitation. Charging at full power, sucking down energy from the ship's vast reactors and the ZPM, the turrets along the upper hull erupted in blue fire. Rolling the ship as he had, to present her dorsal surfaces to the enemy, seven heavy turrets had a clear line of fire on the enemy. Nearly half the Hydra's entire main pulse weapon armament opened fire, sending several thousand megatons of energy per minute through space.

The blue ion bolts sparkled prettily as they tore through space, heading towards the five kilometre long alien vessel that had attacked her, which was even now attempting frantic evasive manoeuvres. Sheppard watched the expression on his face utterly merciless, as the salvo bolts ripped into the massive enemy vessel which had attacked him.

***********

The barrage of ion bolts slammed into the Scarren dreadnaught with searing, white hot force, hull armour capable of withstanding almost point blank fire from the main weapons of Peacekeeper Command Carriers vaporised under the enormous force of the Hydra's weapons, inflicting terrible damage. The elderly ship rocked, shook like something so large shouldn't be able too. The majority of the bolts slammed into the dreadnaught's treblin flank, ripping into manoeuvring systems, fuel bunkers, sensor masts and flesh. Number two turret vanished, disintegrating into millions of pieces no longer than a finger, as two ion bolts slammed into it. The two quadruple turrets on either side of it were completely untouched, their crews momentarily oblivious to the glowing crater which was all that was left of several thousand tons of metal, alloys, thick armour and a flesh.

From outwards appearances, the bow of the ship was completely gutted, but Scarren ships were built tough. Even against that devastating salvo, the inner bulkheads and armour held, torn and tattered in places, but it held. The inner sheaf of armour did what it was supposed to do, protect the vital reactors, power conduits, life support systems and magazines. The crews shook themselves, rerouted damaged conduits to reserves, and continued to fight. Another salvo erupted from the remaining turrets, only to splash with commendable accuracy, but little effect against the Hydra's fully powered shields.

***********

On the bridge of the Scarren ship Karza was roaring in a savage mix of anger and delight. Delight because this looked to be a vicious and glorious fight, anger because it looked unless he did something to change the stakes, he might lose. He grabbed the shaking form of Vahna, and hauled him up to his face, holding the tall kalish effortlessly several feet off the ground by his collar. "Power the defence Screen!" he shouted at the seemingly stunned chief artificer, shaking him bodily.

Vahna gazed into the terrifying eyes of the Captain, and choking slightly on the Scarren's foul breath, nodded shakily to one of his juniors. A series of technicians ran to a set of consoles at the rear of the room, and nervously began to throw switches and hit buttons on a set of consoles. Karza still held Vahna, but was watching out the tactical display. He hissed in anger as he saw yet another salvo dissolve in a silver-white shimmer against the energy shield that hugged the enemy ship like a glove. The enemy's black hull erupted in another massed salvo of blue flashes, and fearfully he turned to roar at the technicians.

"HURRY YOU SCUM, OR I'LL USE YOUR WORTHLESS BODIES AS ARMOUR FOR THIS SHIP!"

The technicians knew it wasn't an empty threat, and with increased haste hurried to power up the as yet untested system.

They weren't quite quick enough, for with another vicious heave, the enemy salvo smashed into the dreadnaught's flank. Consoles sparked as the damage caused vicious power surges throughout the ship, the already overwhelmed power grid struggling to cope. In communications, a panel exploded, flooding the compartment with poisonous gases, while red lights flickered across the damage control panel, as yet more compartments were vented or destroyed utterly by the enemy fire. Right now, the dreadnaught's forward hull looked a lot like someone had taken a knife to it, vast sections of exterior hull hanging loosely, torn or ripped free from their remaining supports by the force of the enemy fire.

Then from a point on the forward hull a bubble of red energy formed, before spreading swiftly aft, the glowing field washing over the damaged sections of hull as it formed like a protective shield. The glowing bubble continued aft, extending into a long vaguely elliptical field, necessary to contain the fins and raised command tower of the damaged ship. The defence screen glowed brightly, and with relief, Karza watched the next few bolts of the enemy's fire wash over it like water over a rock. The enemy had ceased to fire massed salvos now, and was now keeping up an almost continuous fire on them. It was still running though, and that gave Karza a sudden surge of confidence.

"Alter heading, 50 degrees treblin," he barked with a tone of savage joy, "We'll go right down his frelling throat!" The move would take them practically across the enemy bows, and give as yet unengaged and undamaged aft turrets of Karza's ship a chance to open fire. It was also extremely dangerous; collisions were common whenever this risky tactic had been used in the past.

Vahna, whom Kazra had by now let drop to the decking, was clinging desperately to a console. His face was white, his skin almost as pale as a Nebari, which for a Kalish was saying something. He watched the ship's head come round, and felt her shake as she began to accelerate. Even in his terror his eyes ran over the sensor data.

He gazed at the enemy vessel in wonder, mouth open as he watched that amazing energy barrier stop the dreadnaught's fire dead. It appeared to operate on completely different principles to their own defence screens. Incoming fire simply vanished against it, while their own spread much of the charge around the shield bubble to dissipate. He practically hissed as he saw for the first time the power readings coming off the ship. That was impossible, wasn't it? If they had that much power available to power their defence screen, then it must be almost impossible to break through.

At that moment the entire ship shook once more, and glancing forward he just caught sight of a fragment of number three turret as it blew into pieces and impacted against the armour of the bridge tower. The entire structure shook, but it held firm.

Karza yelled at him. "_How did they penetrate our defence screen?"_ he said, advancing threateningly towards the chief artificer.

Vahna hurriedly backed away. He saw the problem immediately; the defence screen was incomplete. On the Hammond side foreward there were gaps, some of which were large enough for enemy fire to penetrate. As he watched, another blue bolt slashed through a gap, tearing a deep furrow in the armour of the upper hull, the glowing edges clearly visible on the monitors.

He pointed. "The defence screen is not fully formed" he answered hurriedly, turning the captain's attention towards the image. "It was not fully tested; there were gaps in the coverage we have not yet managed to seal. Enemy fire is slipping through!"

"Fix it!"

"I can't!"

"FIX IT!"

"I don't know how." He pleaded desperately, "We're still studying the technology. Can you turn the ship so the gaps are less exposed?"

"No," growled Karza, and his red eyes turned back to the tactical once more, growling as yet another bolt slipped through the defences to savage the hull. The remaining forward batteries, one and four, were still firing, as were the aft guns now, but the enemy ship's defences were still holding firm.

Vahna was at the consoles at the rear of the compartment, trying desperately to maintain the defence screen cohesion. The defence bubble was weakening dangerously, less than three microns of fire had already brought it down from eighty to less than twenty percent cohesion. Worse still, the bubble had been expanded dangerously wide to provide cover for the rear fins. The program largely managing the defence screen's operation was salvaged from a Peacekeeper computer system, and he still didn't fully understand it. It had taken weeks to get it to make the screen form properly around the hull, and even then he'd had to compromise. Now it was close to collapse.

Not wanting to die, Vahna began frantically to manipulate the energy of the DS, not entirely sure what he was doing. After a few microts he saw with relief that his frantic idea had worked. At the cost of depleting the Treblin side defences, the engaged Hammond side was being reinforced, and as he watched cohesion rose to forty seven percent. There were still gaps, but that couldn't be helped. He looked over at the forward part of the brigde compartment.

He winced as he saw their projected course on the holographic display. At their projected heading and speed, they would intersect the enemy course barely two or three metras ahead of the enemy ship, that or ram him amidships.

"Keep firing" Karza was roaring, interspersing his orders with guttural Scarren curses so thick and fast that Vahna's couldn't keep up with them.

Vahna looked around at his team. They were all thinking the same thing, he could tell. They were going to die if they stayed here. The crazy Scarren was going to get them killed, probably because he was too juiced up on his own dreck. There were shuttles in the aft section, slow and unarmed, but hetch capable. They weren't stocked to prevent desertion by the Charrids aboard, but Kalish biology meant that he and his team didn't need eat for almost a quarter cycle yet. They could do it. Maybe die on a shuttle, or definitely die here. He was already considering how best to sneak his people out of the compartment, and get an evacuation order to his work crews without the Scarrens noticing, when a quartet of Scarren marines took up station by the hatch. His dismay must have shown on his face, for he heard a harsh laugh, and turned to see Karza. The Scarren's eyes were red with rage, but he was laughing, a terrible, merciless laugh.

"Back to your stations, you scum. I'll have you whipped for this. The first one to try escape gets a belly full of plasma! If you survive that, I'll personally skin you, and use your mangy hide for a tunic!" he pulled out his sidearm, and levelled it at them. The deck shook violently, as another salvo slammed into the weakening defence screen, but the barrel of the gun was steady as a rock.

Dozens of green eyes moved from the Marine's carbines to Karza. He fired a shot impatiently at the ceiling. As one the Kalish technicians moved back from where they had gathered nearer the hatch, and returned to their consoles. The rest of the Scarrens in the compartment drew their weapons, and kept them ready. Karza grabbed Vahna, and grabbing his right arm painfully, dragged him hurriedly towards the main engineer's position.

The Scarren gazed at the data being displayed. "The Screen is failing" he said, and Vahna despite the iron grip on his right arm, actually started. He had thought the Scarren had shown no interest whatsoever in the DS research, but apparently he was wrong. Somehow he knew enough to interpret the complex data being display, but how. However he knew, the Beast was right, the screen was losing cohesion rapidly, a few more shots and it would probably fail completely.

He watched the Scarren nervously, trying to guess what was going through that huge, reptilian mind. More shots thudded into the hull, and with a last tone of warning, the shimmering red barrier protecting the ravaged ship collapsed. As the screen died, a fierce salvo of blue bolts tore into the bow, ripping apart the remaining bow turret. The ships were now so close, that the aft turrets couldn't bear, and had fallen silent microts ago. A strange stillness seemed to fall over the compartment, as each crewman inwardly prepared themselves to die. The Kalish stood silently, while the Scarrens as one gripped their weapons, preparing to die with a weapon in their hands like a warrior.

Then, suddenly, after what felt to Vahna like microns, but was probably only microts, Karza gave a vicious snarl beside him. The savage noise broke the sudden stillness, the crew seemingly to jerk awake as if after a dream. The Scarren strode across the compartment, his every gesture oozing defiance, until he was seated in his command throne once more.

"Engine room, full power to engines," he snarled into the intercom. "Helmsman, give me manoeuvrability now". He turned to face the view screen, his face a mask of rage, his hands flying over the controls in front of him. He tapped in a course correction, then pressed the button to confirm the action. Almost at once, the dreadnaught's battered bow began to swing drunkenly round, glowing brightly with reflected energy. Slowly, slowly, it came around, until she was barrelling through space, her shredded hull groaning under the stresses of her untouched engines, on a collision course direct from the enemy ship.

"_Prepare to Ram_," growled Karza. The Scarrens on the bridge roared in approval, chanting their clan battle cries, and waited for the glorious end to come!

***********

On the Hydra's bridge Elizabeth's eyes widened in horror as through the viewports she saw the savaged alien warship turn its bow right towards them and accelerate. Their intent was obvious.

"John," she started to say.

"I see it," John replied, his tone glacial. Tapped into the gunnery station as she was, she had access to the feed from the targeting systems. Even with her limited experience of using the ship's sensors, she could clearly see the decreasing distance between the alien vessel and their own. She felt the Hydra start to roll onto its side, fresh weapons batteries on the starboard side opening fire as they were unmasked. She dragged her concentration from the horrifying figures in front of her to glance at John. His face was twisted into a mask of concentration and anger. She could almost sense his hate, as the Hydra's batteries crashed out, more and more as secondary weapons opened up, the entire ship shaking from the recoil. Fire streamed forwards over the bow, terrifying in its intensity, equally terrifying because it came from only one ship.

She watched Ion bolts crash into the alien ship, visibly inflicting terrible damage to the already battered ship. Secondary weapons fire also flayed the enemy vessel, not as powerful as the main pulse batteries, but if anything more terrifying. Entire sections of hull were shredded by the smaller more numerous bolts, stripping away decks and armour, making entire sections of hull drop away in their entirety. A she watched, an entire section some two hundred meters long broke free of the battered hulk, as with a series of internal explosions ravaged sections of the enemy's outer hull experienced structural collapse. Debris and atmosphere erupted from the gaping wound, water droplets freezing instantaneously to form a shimmering cloud, through which weapons fire tore prettily. But still the ship came on, inexorably, it's blazing and battered bow, heavily pockmarked with weapons impacts, heading straight for them. She shot another panicked glance at John, who appeared momentarily oblivious to the impending collision.

His eyes still blazed, and then to her relief, she felt through the changing motion the ship's course alter. Glancing forward, she saw that the Hydra was levelling off and turning, turning fast, not away from the enemy, but towards him. For a moment she sat stunned, disbelieving, half believing that Sheppard intended to ram the alien vessel as the Hydra's bow continued to swing, she saw his plan. The Hydra was turning faster than the enemy could react, had caught the enemy off guard with her unexpected manoeuvre. She saw the shattered bow of the enemy vessel start to swing round, terrifyingly close now, but Sheppard was ready. As the enemy vessel blundered around, like a great wounded predator, the Hydra's bows dropped. She dived smoothly underneath the enemy's shattered hull, debris rippling off her silver shields, all her batteries momentarily falling silent. As she passed under the enemy keel, clearing it by scarcely 200 meters, the turrets along her ventral hull elevated directly upwards, and as Weir watched, fired just one devastating salvo directly into the enemy's ravaged hull. No armour could have stopped it, but little to no armour survived on the enemy's lower hull anyway. The ion bolts sliced cleanly through deck after deck, penetrating the armour belt around the inner hull, finally slamming into the inactive number 2 reactor. The reactor was cold, but the ion bolts detonated inside the volatile mass of energy with the force of a bomb. On her amidships engineering decks, the crew had less than a second to understand what had happened, before the reactor compartment disintegrated.

As the Hydra sped away from the alien ship, a massive explosion amidships the enemy lit the blackness of space. Moments later, the ravaged hulk began to break apart. That one devastating salvo and the reactor explosion had sliced cleanly through her keel, a devastating wound from which there was no recovery. Compounded by the heavy damage to the forward sections, the loss of the keel and so much of the amidships section caused a catastrophic loss of structural integrity. The massive stresses on the ship's hull meant that it literally began to tear itself apart. Cracks spread rapidly away from the immediate damage, structural supports crumbling faster than the crewmembers fleeing to the intact stern compartments could run. As the decks supporting the only partially scrammed number 1 reactor crumbled away, secondary explosions inside the hull compounded the damage. Just 20 seconds after that last devastating salvo, the ship broke apart with just a silent eruption of escaping atmosphere, just forward of the bulkhead protecting number three reactor. The two sections drifted apart, until with a titanic explosion, the still active number 1 reactor breached in the bow breached, igniting the forward magazines. The resulting fireball enveloped the entire ship, the edge of the blast wave buffeting the fleeing Hydra as Sheppard, guessing what would happen, hurried to get clear. When it dissipated, the battered stern section was revealed far from the site of the explosion, blackened and melted. Of the bow, there was no sign whatsoever.

***********

**Hydra Bridge**

For a long while after that devastating explosion, the bridge was dead silent. The two people in the compartment were both suddenly feeling very tired, and rather sick.

After about a minute John reached for his radio. "Rodney, you guys ok?" he said in a flat voice.

"_We're fine. What happened?"_

"We were attacked, again. They tried to ram us, I stopped them."

"_Oh."_

"Yeh. Tell me you've finished!"

"_I've finished. Navigational sensors are online. We're good to go. Take it slowly ok."_

"Good Job. Ok. Standby,."

Sheppard dropped his hand from the Radio dully, and leaned back in the chair.

"Where are we going?" asked Elizabeth.

"As far away from here as I can safely take us," said John tonelessly. All he wanted to do was hide, but where? He examined the data from the newly repaired sensors. He couldn't see far, still didn't know exactly where they were, but the surrounding space within range contained over a dozen star systems. Finally he selected one. It was a binary star system, the stars both pulsars, which he knew from his high school astronomy would emit high levels of radiation. It wasn't much of a plan, but hopefully the radiation from the neutron stars should make it easy to hide from sensors, and their shields would protect them from any dangerous exposure.

With a thought, he carefully brought the navigation system online, readying the ship to jump. With a soft humming, the Hydra's Hyperdrive engines began to power up, sucking down energy from her ZPM and reactors. Deep in the engine room, McKay watched the data cautiously. Every system read as in the green, but once they had found somewhere to hide, he intended to give everything a serious check over. After he'd had a good 12 hours sleep of course, that and had some food.

"Looking good Sheppard" he radioed.

"_Understood. Hold on!"_

On the bridge John took a deep breath. He was about to engage the final jump, when space seemed to split open before him. He was more than a little surprised, for he hadn't just yet given the command to form a hyperspace window. He soon realised it was not the familiar blue green distortion of a hyperspace window however, but something else entirely. Before he had time to wonder what was happening, a vast shape emerged from the distortion at high speed. It was a huge ship, and it was heading right towards him.

John just froze. His brain seemed to turn to ice. His nerves were shot. He was tired, dehydrated and utterly drained. Any military doctor would have taken one look at him, and relieved him of duty instantly. But Sheppard was the pilot, and there was no one else. He didn't move. Part of his brain was screaming at him to move the ship, to get out the way before it hit them, but he did nothing. For a few seconds, he just sat there, like a statue in the Hydra's command chair.

A few seconds was all it took. The huge ship that had dropped out of FTL right in front of them looked almost identical to the one that they had just destroyed. Only bigger, much bigger, John reflected dully that life was just plain unfair. The Hydra's sensors lit up as they were lashed with targeting systems, mental and audio alarms blaring in his ears. He wrestled with his shock, tried to recover, tried to react, when it happened.

From either flank, twin jets of focused green energy slammed into the enemy ship. With strange detachment, he watched the immensely powerful particle weapons fire slam into the bow of the enemy ship, the armour glowing from the force of the impact. Nothing stopped them. In less than two seconds, all four beams pierced the entire ship from bow to stern, ripping through millions of tons of metal, alloys plastic and flesh like knifes into warm butter. For what seemed like minutes, the enemy vessel just hung there, gutted, and then its vast main reactor blew_. A monstrous explosion blossomed from the core of the ship as titanic amounts of energy were released. For a few milliseconds the shattered hull contained the massive energy wave. Then the remaining bulkheads were swept away like sand before the sea, and the dreadnaught disintegrated into a maelstrom of fire and liberated energy._

The Hydra kept going, ploughing into the fireball. Chunks of the destroyed ship crashed into the shields protecting the Hydra making the whole of her shields flare brilliantly as they repelled the energy. At the back of John's mind warnings sounded, indicating that shield strength was down to fifty-percent, the sheer kinetic force of the chunks hitting the shields at the speed they were going badly stressing the generators and emitters.

A moment later like a phoenix emerging from the flames, the Hydra glided into open space – the glow of her shields fading as the last of the energy was refracted back into space. Behind her the few remaining fragments of the dreadnaught glowed with internal fires as the last of their atmosphere was consumed, left astern like so much other space jetsam.

John turned his head to stare at Elizabeth. She was sheet white, shaking in her seat. She gazed at him with unseeing eyes, and snatched her hands away from the console violently, clasping them in one another. She rose unsteadily, crossing to the rear of the compartment, and left the bridge. He looked away, stunned. The navigation system beeped at him, and with an effort he dragged himself back to the present. Carefully, and ever so slowly, for fear of making a mistake, he initiated the jump into Hyperspace, ignoring the frantic radio calls from McKay to ask what had happened.

Ahead of the Hydra, space split open, and too late, far too late for two of her crew, the black ship finally escaped into the safety of subspace. Inside the hull, a little way down the corridor leading to the bridge, Elizabeth Weir slumped against the bulkhead, and slid slowly down to the deck. Silent tears began to fall from her face, to drop silently onto the polished deckplates. After a moment, she brought up her knees, hugging them desperately against her chest, and tried to forget what she had done.

**This Chapter is Dedicated to the Memory of Don S. Davis**

**An extraordinary man, and fantastic actor, who will be sorely missed.**

**Rest in Peace George**

**End of Chapter 3**

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**Thanks Everyone. Hope you enjoyed it! Please Review**


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